Rose of Jericho
by SpyVsTailor
Summary: Some things change. People come and go, the seasons shift and blur, time passes, generations rise and fall, but some things never really change. Do they? Rated for the colourful language of the Dixon's and for various other nefarious things.
1. Simple Man

**Well, this is it. The fourth in the Graveyard Dirt &amp; Salt series. It's a little bit different style. I wanted to change things up a little. Um, I looked into when the show was set and it was fairly vague, so I back-dated it a bit. Please, don't nit-pick about this minor detail too much. Enjoy! Review or don't, as always. Just read and enjoy!**

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**Rose of Jericho**

**Milton's Historical Logs #83**

**Friday, July 11, 2014**

Today I finally finished fixing the solar panels the soldiers from Tennessee ruined. For weeks since the attack on the convent we have been running on half power, but now we should be back to full power. Which means we can finally start digging into the microwave popcorn reserves and heating the soup without heating the entire convent. (We really need to invest in an electric stove for the convent kitchen. I'll make a note of it in the next run Daryl and the Lieutenant make for supplies.)

Daryl has taken to expanding his shed, which I disagreed with and informed him that it would probably be easier to just tear it down and rebuild a proper house, but he seemed to quite adamantly dislike that suggestion and told me in no specific terms where to go and how to get there. I have decided to keep my distance from him for a few days, just in case.

I took a quick inventory of our remaining food stores and if Carl's group can't find food in Atlanta we may face a hard, dark winter. By my calculations we could lose up to half of our people.

My concern as well has been medications. We are running low on anti-biotics, even counting the stuff I've made, but Carol's beehive, having taken a hit in the fight with the soldiers, is still intact enough and the Queen has survived, so hopefully we can treat minor wounds with the honey they produce.

While Daryl works on his 'home', the Lieutenant has been working high on the roof of the church, much to the perturbation of Grace, who constantly frets that the man will fall to his death from the steep roof. I personally rigged the Lieutenant up there with ropes and pulleys, so I can vouch for his safety, though if Grace ever reads this, I completely respect her choice in worrying and she's right about the Lieutenant being mad as a dog.

I've taken on that young boy Toby from Sister Ruth's children, he's a bright boy who shows promise of making a sharp and astute scientist. I wasn't expecting for him to suddenly become my protégé and responsibility, but I'm grateful he's one of those children who doesn't need constant supervision. I wasn't prepare to clean diapers or any of the other things that one must do with children.

Rick is making rapid recovery after his stroke, he still has some difficulty in communicating speech, but I've been helping both him and the Kowalski from Delgado's in their rehabilitation.

Delgado had asked if the younger Kowalski could join us long enough to get his mobility back into the leg that was shattered bad. Delgado at least sent food over enough to supply us with food to feed Kowalski and a little extra for our efforts.

Kowalski's injuries were bad, but I'm also helping him with speech therapy, but he continues to prefer non-verbal communication, so I've taken it upon myself to teach him ASL. He enjoys this greatly, but so far I'm the only person who can communicate back and forth with him. He's a surprisingly smart young man and to my knowledge he is a lot less war-like that I first surmised. More introverted and thoughtful.

Once he gets old enough I'm hoping to begin lessons in sign language with Langdon, but as of yet the toddler is too young. Still, I'm progressing on his hearing aid problem, so perhaps I may be able to help Kowalski as well, since he has about thirty percent hearing in one ear.

In all, for the moment, things at the convent are calm and progressing nicely.

**Current home population: 27 (One added number from Delgado's group.)**

**Current away population: 6**

**Current forecast: 65º, Partly Cloudy**

**Current mood: Calm (but that could change if Daryl find's out I've been trying to talk some sense into Carol about that slanty shanty they live in.)**

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****Carol****

"Goddamn son-of-a-bitch it all to hell!"

From her position on the ground, Carol peered up at Daryl as he stood on the roof of their shed, trying to tear shingles off with a crowbar. Settling her hand on her stomach, she arched her back and shielded her eyes with the other.

"Maybe Milton was right," she suggested. "Maybe we should just tear it down and start anew."

"Milton's a goddamned egg-headed know-it-all with more mouth than balls," Daryl snarled. "This is our home, it just needs some fixing. I'm not coming down until these shingles are off or Milton show's his damned face so I can whoop his ass for wedging his nose in where it doesn't belong."

Unsure why Daryl was being so stubborn about the shed, Carol sighed and shifted on her feet. The added weight of her pregnant belly was beginning to get to her, especially the last week or so with all the running around and repairing they had been doing to the convent. Seemed she hardly ever got time to just sit, not that she would normally complain, but she was carrying around twenty extra pounds of weight and soon she would be full on thirty pounds heavier. It was a lot of weight to constantly drag around, especially when you were running after rambunctious kids trying to get them to settle enough for a few lessons under the magnolia tree in the yard.

Nadir seemed intent only on the lessons on knives, Annie was more interested in Boo the dog, Olivia wanted to have a twenty-four hour tea party, Toby wouldn't touch any of the weapons except the WWII Luger, which he explained in great detail the use and manufacturing of, Dean always mysteriously disappeared for the lessons and Elise would work on her pretty charcoal drawings, but didn't seem to pay much attention. Carol and Grace not only did their best to teach the children how to stay safe (Carol handling those lessons mostly on her own), but they took it upon themselves to teach the children about history and literature and art. Daryl didn't seem to understand why those were necessary, but Carol had reminded him that it was where they came from. That civilization was born of art and beauty, that stories and tales lived on long after they would be gone. That just because their civilization had fallen, the children couldn't learn about life through works like _Moby Dick_ _or The Outsiders_. That _Of Mice and Men_ was just as relevant now than it ever was.

She had even caught Annie reading _Gone With the Wind_ to Olivia and Nadir as the two girls played tea party and Nadir sat nearby weaving childish hats and baskets from river reeds. And even though Annie faltered on some words and made up rough estimations of what she thought others were or meant, she still found joy in reading something from the old world.

Carol knew it was important to teach the children to protect themselves, but she also knew that it was important to pass the torch to the children. To remind them to uphold the ways of how it was. They could be civilized, Grace had once said in argument to Daryl, in an uncivilized land.

Once, as the Lieutenant had sat in on a lesson and read Yeats to the children, Carol had even caught Dean sneaking up behind the tree to listen in and it brought a smile to her to know the boy wasn't completely savage. That his heart yearned for poetry and soft words.

But lessons were over for the day and Carol stood below Daryl on the roof of their shed, watching as her Dixon struggled with the stubborn old shingles.

"Whoever pinned these up here used eighty thousand damned nails for one sheet," Daryl continued to grumble.

Moving to stand at her side, the Lieutenant mimicked Carol's pose, hand to his eyes, other on his flat stomach.

She nudged him with her elbow and he grinned, addressing Daryl. "What's, ah…what's going on up there, _cabri_?"

Before Daryl could respond there was a groan, then a crack and Daryl disappeared out of sight.

Pushing into the shed's interior carefully, Carol and the Lieutenant found him in a heap of broken roof slats and shingles, the small Dixon brother snarling and cursing and twisting to get to his feet like a trapped beast.

"New roof, huh?" The Lieutenant asked calmly.

Daryl glowered and stomped out to find material to fix the roof with.

"You distract him and I'll just burn it down for you," the Lieutenant said to her. "We'll split the insurance money."

"Maybe you can talk some sense into him, he…he just won't listen to reason."

"_Mais_, if he doesn't listen to reason, he's not going to listen to me." At her insistent look, he smiled graciously and set off after Daryl, Carol following. "_Cabri_?" The Lieutenant called over to the man as Daryl bent over, going through their lumber pile. "Listen…why are you so determined to repair this spit stand when you could just build a whole new home here on this spot?"

Daryl glowered at him. "Are you going to help or are you just going to get underfoot?"

"Look, Cash found a pile of field stones behind that old plantation nearby, why don't you just take this pile of sticks down and set yourself a good solid foundation for a good solid home."

"Because there's nothing wrong with our home," Daryl snarled.

Carol glanced at the Lieutenant, both of them realizing what the problem was almost immediately.

It was the Lieutenant who spoke. "I see, okay. Daryl this…" he paused.

Carol stepped in, moving to place her hand on Daryl's bicep. "Daryl, this will always be our home, just…a lot less likely to crash down around our ears." She squeezed his arm gently. "Don't you want to build your family something that'll last longer than a year or two?"

He scowled.

"Tell you what," she said. "We can salvage parts of our home and put them into our new home. Like, the door and the windows, they're not rotted like the rest of it." She caressed the side of his face with a feather-like touch. "Come on, it'll still be our home, just…safer," she finished with a manipulative touch of her hand to her swollen stomach and a small, sweet grin.

He dropped the piece of lumber he was holding up and sighed.

Carol beamed, knowing she won. Pushing up onto her toes, she kissed him and bounced back. "Thank you! It'll be nice and it'll be ours, I promise."

Daryl shifted on his feet and eyed the shed.

"Well, guess we should start ripping it down," he said to the Lieutenant.

The Cajun frowned. "Nah, I have a lazier way."

"Don't you have a roof of your own to fix?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to miss out on burning down the house."

Carol looked at the evil gleam in the Lieutenant's eye with slight amusement.

"What the hell are you doing to my shed?!" Grace declared, joining them by the searing heat of the flaming building.

"Fay did it," Daryl said quickly.

"It was Carol's idea," the Lieutenant passed the buck smoothly.

From where she sat on a pile of their things that had been dragged out of the shed, Carol gawped in betrayal at the Lieutenant, before looking at Grace. "It's under control."

Grace folded her arms. "Carol, honey, are these men bothering you?"

"Just the tall one right now," Carol replied with a grin.

Tsking, Grace eyed the flames before, stepping back. "Well, you boys shouldn't place blame on pregnant ladies and…just mind the fire."

The Lieutenant darted forward and caught Grace before she could go, pulling her back against him and trapping her there.

"Where are you off to, _petite pie bavarde_?" He teased.

"Well, unlike you, you lazy layabout, I have work to do."

Burying his face in her dark hair, the Lieutenant smiled and even from where she stood by Daryl, Carol could see the blissful look in his eyes.

"I am working," he protested. "See those flames."

"The ones Carol instigated?" Grace demanded.

"Mmm, she's kind of a tricky thing, isn't she?" The Lieutenant asked.

Carol bowed her head and smiled as Daryl wove his arm around her waist and moved in closer to her.

"Carol is no more trickier than most women."

"Ah, so you admit that women are tricky."

"The female of the species is always deadlier than the male, honey." Grace admitted with a small, gracious smile as the Lieutenant's large hands fell to her stomach.

Daryl's did likewise over Carol's and she leaned back against him, watching the fire as it consumed the shed.

"Where are we going to store the things that were in that shed?" Grace asked suddenly.

The Lieutenant angled his jaw. "Huh, didn't think that far ahead."

"Group of delinquents," Grace murmured as Carol buried her laughing face into Daryl's shoulder.


	2. Against the Wind

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**Milton's Historical Logs #89**

**Tuesday, July 22, 2014**

Carl has returned from Atlanta, there were no lives lost on the trip and many supplies to be gained, though he did tell me that there are indeed infected who still haunt the city, they seem few and far between there, but they are there. We are almost full up to the brim with dry goods and canned goods. The cellar is so full of foodstuffs that we only have a narrow passageway to maneuver through.

There was so much and the pickings were so easy that Carl is planning to make another run into Atlanta and another and so on until we have enough.

By my calculations we have enough food to feed ten more mouths into the middle of next summer or if our population stays more or less the same we'll have enough to last until next winter. That's not including the fact that Carl may make two or three more trips and return with food enough. Our only problem now has been to bolster the numbers of Sister Gertrude's remaining cats in an effort to prevent rats and mice from getting in at our supplies. I've personally given Toby the task of caring for the cats and have asked Carl to bring back a healthy supply of cat food as all we have for the cats at the moment is leftovers and even those are pretty scant. Carl did have the foresight to bring back copious amounts of dog food and we've begun to actually invest in the animals. The chickens are flourishing, the dairy cow has been bred with some crafty negotiating with Delgado's people and we should soon see a few pigs come in our way from Ruth.

In all I've been very busy taking inventory and assigning new storage facilities, Glenn has even volunteered to set up a few people and himself at the nearby plantation, where we can store more.

Rick's progress is going well. He's getting stronger every day, though I've noticed he has shown no interest in any leadership roles, he has taken to minding the smaller children, to which he's shown actual talent, but this move has startled some. It's not to be surprised, Rick has had a serious stroke and he's re-evaluating his life, I'm sure.

In the meantime, as a more personal, less informative entry, we're all getting ready for the wedding of Lieutenant Vancoughnett and Grace Harper. They want to have it in the church, but since it's still not whole again, they've put it off once more until the church can be restored to its full glory.

Could be another month or so if the Lieutenant could ever pull himself away from chasing his daughters around or sneaking away with Grace to work on the church. But the work he has done is remarkable, he hand carved the sides of every last pew, putting details in that weren't on the old, simple pews, saints and matyrs, angels and icons. Some think he's nervous about the wedding and trying to put it off, but anyone who really knows the Lieutenant knows he's doing it out of love. Grace adored that church so much, this is just the Lieutenant trying to bring it back to her.

Daryl and Carol are preparing themselves as well, another three months and they'll have a child, Carol's second and Daryl's first. Some people are thinking Daryl is going to be too hard on the child, but in my personal opinion as an outside observer, Daryl is more equipped to be a father than anyone, since he knows what it's like to have a bad one. He's smart enough, too, to know that if he does the opposite of what his own father would do, he'd be one of the best fathers around.

**Current home population: 33 (One added number from Delgado's group, Kowalski is still with us learning sign language, his brother has also expressed an interest in learning so he's remained for a few weeks as well.)**

**Current away population: 0**

**Current forecast: 62º, Sunny**

**Current mood: Unnerved (Michonne has been standing in the doorway of my office for the past ten minutes, polishing the blade of her sword. I'm beginning to wonder if it's a threat. If I don't write in this log again, just know that she's probably a person of interest in the investigation.)**

**Addendum: What does it mean when a woman tells you where she's chosen to sleep? There has to be a significance to this…**

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****The Lieutenant****

"Daddy?"

"Yes, boo?"

"What are clouds made of?" Annie asked.

They had been lying on their backs for hours, it seemed, listening to the others excitedly telling tales of what they missed and what was new and the news from Atlanta, until the roar of excitement, became a buzz, which faded into a hum, before dying with a whimper.

"_Mais_," he pondered it. "They're…water droplets in the sky."

"Clouds are water?" Olivia demanded from the other side of him.

"But they're white," Annie added. "Water is blue."

"Nuh-uh!" Olivia protested. "Water isn't any colour!"

"Yeah!" Annie said. "It's blue in the ocean and lakes!"

"Clouds are white, because it's frozen water, like tiny snowflakes and ice crystals." The Lieutenant struggled to explain, he wasn't sure he was one hundred percent right, but he knew he was on the right track.

"How do they stay up there? Shouldn't they fall like snow?" Annie asked as they all calmed down.

The Lieutenant pondered this. He always hated when his Mamere gave him 'I don't know' answers, so he didn't want to just give them that, but he also didn't care much for lying to the girls.

"In life," he began slowly, "there are always questions. It's not for me to answer all of them for you. It's up to you to go forth and discover the answers for yourselves."

Smiling, proud of himself, Fate sat up straighter in the grass and eyed Olivia.

"What a load of shit," Annie declared loudly.

"You shouldn't say 'shit', boo," he protested, pulling the girl in close and pecking the top of her head with his chin playfully. "Your ma will blow a gasket hearing you say things like that."

"Why not? It's just a word."

"It's an adult word just for adults." He returned.

"When do I become an adult?" Annie demanded.

"When you turn forty."

"I wouldn't ever say shit, daddy," Olivia pointed out sombrely.

He furrowed his brow at the skyline. "You just said it so that sort of defeats the promise."

"Well, I won't say it again." Olivia insisted.

"_Je t'aime_, daddy," Annie declared loudly.

"_Je t'aime_, boo." He returned with a grin.

Olivia crawled into his lap and took his face in her hands. "_Je t'aime_ more, daddy."

"_Je t'aime plus_," he corrected. It had become habit now for him to teach his girls how to speak, they had learned most of the basics, but this was one they used often and it was usually in competition.

Olivia paused in thought, before asking. "Does that mean more?"

"Yes."

"How do I say 'I love you the most'?" She demanded.

"I love him the most!" Annie growled.

"Nuh-uh!" Olivia argued.

Saved by Daryl who was wandering over with a nervous looking Milton trailing behind, the Lieutenant kissed both his girls on the top of their heads, before standing up.

"What's going on?" He asked as the men approached.

"I'm thinking of heading over to the plantation today to grab a load of fieldstones, you in?" Daryl returned.

"Sure, I have nothing planned. I was going to try to cut some glass to replace the stained glass panels, but I got distracted," he returned, eyeing Milton beyond Daryl. "You alright, Milton?"

"Einstein is coming with us," Daryl said. "We could use the extra pair of hands."

"I'm more capable of obtaining and holding a supervisory position," Milton said. "But Daryl said he'd knock my block off if I didn't help and I don't know which part of me is my block per se, but I'm assuming it's my head and I'm quite fond of it."

"'Yes' isn't in your vocabulary?" Daryl growled. "You need a bigger damned dictionary."

"Will this new dictionary define 'block' for me in terms of how you used it?" Milton shot back. "Because I'd be interested to know for future reference what it is that you threaten to knock off whenever I say something you don't like to hear."

"Why aren't you taking someone more…outdoorsy?" Fate asked as the men started towards one of the trucks.

"My ongoing pursuit of scientific method in a new world ruled by Neanderthal man doesn't make my feelings impervious to being wounded," Milton argued.

Slinging an arm around the little blond, Fate beamed. "I'm sorry, _lapin_, you come with us and we'll teach you the ways of the Neanderthal."

"I've been forever yearning to learn the ways of fire," Milton murmured dryly.

"Mm, fire good, cook meat," the Lieutenant grunted, punching Milton's shoulder companionably.

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"…so I got that goin' for me, which is nice."

They had been travelling down the dirt road heading home from the plantation with a heavy load of fieldstones in the back, Daryl driving the truck, Milton wedged between them. The youngest Dixon brother quiet, eyes narrowed at the road.

"I don't think Christianity works that way," Milton pointed out calmly.

"Why would Gracie say 'God help you' if she wasn't asking a favour of the big man on my behalf?" The Lieutenant shot back with a smirk.

They drove on, Milton floundering to argue that logic with the Lieutenant, Daryl still eyeing the road ahead with a bit of a thoughtful scowl.

"What's going on in that goat head of yours, _cabri_?" The Lieutenant asked after a moment.

Daryl inhaled deeply, but said nothing.

"Let me try guessing then," the Lieutenant teased. "Carol caught you trying on those frilly white drawers of hers and you got—"

"How the hell do know about her drawers?" Daryl snapped.

"Holy hell! I was just guessing!" The Lieutenant barked, laughing at the man's face.

Daryl reached across Milton to grab at the Cajun who doubled over in joy. "Did you wear them too? Was I right all around? Maybe I have psychic powers."

The truck swerved as Daryl took a swipe at the Lieutenant, the Marine huddled up against the door to escape the assault, but was righted by a panicked Milton, who grasped the steering wheel with wide eyes.

Turning back to the road, Daryl scowled darkly at it, the sparkle in his eyes belying his amusement.

"What's really wrong, then?" The Lieutenant asked after a moment.

Daryl cast a nervous glance at Milton, before licking his bottom lip.

"Oh, don't worry about secrets around me," Milton said. "I have no one to tell them to."

Daryl was sullen and quiet for the longest time as they drove, his hands gripping and loosening on the steering wheel, before he began tentatively. "Is…have you noticed things about Grace…like with her pregnancy and shit?"

The Lieutenant was quiet, before nodding. "Yeah, she's got this thing growing inside her stomach right now, sort of a parasite—"

"Fuck it," Daryl snarled.

"Naw, come on. What's up, _cabri_?"

Daryl sniffed and cleared his throat. "Has Grace been…like…insatiable?"

Leaning forward to peer around Milton, the Lieutenant pegged Daryl with a smug look. "_Cabri_," he crooned.

"It's just…" Daryl turned red right up to the tips of his ears, "my fucking dick is chapped as hell."

Milton's head slowly turned to face Daryl, the geeky blond quietly eyeing the rough man.

"I mean, I'm fucking sore," Daryl went on, still as red as a mosquito on a pigs ass. "How do I…you know, tell her to ease up a little."

"Mais," the Lieutenant drawled slowly, "that's a serious problem. Do you avoid the sex or have your dick fall off…"

"You need a substitute," Milton pointed out.

"For sex?" Daryl asked.

"No, for you."

The Lieutenant chuckled. "Pinch hitter."

"Shit no," Daryl snapped. "Fuck!"

"Well," Milton said, pushing his glasses up with his knuckle. "Your other option is to say no to a hormonal Carol."

Daryl shook his head. "Naw, can't say no to her."

"Tell her you sprained it."

"What? My cock?" Daryl demanded.

They pulled down the cattle trail home and reached the gates just behind a military transport, causing the Lieutenant to bolt from the truck before it even stopped, rushing to the side of the transport and jumping onto the runner to peer inside.

"Double Trouble!" Rhoades exclaimed from the back of the transport. Leaning inside as the transport started into the convent grounds slowly, the Cajun laughed jovially. "What brings you all back this way?"

"We were invited for a wedding, I believe," O'Hara said from his place beside Rhoades. "I hope we're not late?"

"Not at all!" As the transport pulled to a stop in front of the church, the Lieutenant leapt down and helped the men out of the transport. "Where's the rest of your men?" He asked O'Hara.

"Stationed nearby, didn't want to overwhelm you here." Fredricks pointed out. "How the hell have you been, Lieutenant?"

"We're good, our people just got home from Atlanta," he returned as Daryl and Milton joined them from their truck, Merle and Andrea coming over from the church. "Found enough to get by on."

"How was Atlanta?" O'Hara asked.

"Dead," Merle greeted with a grin.

"Sergeant Fredricks, Rhoades!" Carol exclaimed, emerging from the church with Grace at her heels and a whole mess of children behind her. "Major O'Hara!" She wrapped both Sergeant's into a tight hug, O'Hara got a warm nod.

Grace also embraced the men sweetly, standing on her tiptoes to pull Fredricks down for a hug.

"You boys look rough," Carol said. "Why don't you come inside and sit, we'll find you something warm to eat."

"You ladies are angels," Fredricks purred, following the women, as O'Hara ensured his men were out of the transport and heading in for a warm meal.

Daryl and the Lieutenant exchanged a look, before Daryl said, "so how long you staying for?"

"To see a wedding," O'Hara said. "Then we'll move along."

"So what's it like?" Glenn asked. "Out there, I mean in the wilds?"

Looking around, Rhoades beamed. "We aren't in the wilds?"

"Different wilds," Glenn said with a shrug.

"Quiet," O'Hara said, getting back to the question. "There's not many people moving about, those left are keeping their heads down somewhat. Minding their own business." He stopped short as Adele stepped over holding Celeste in one hand, her other clasped around Langdon's small hand.

"Major," Adele greeted.

"Amelia?" The man said.

"Adele," she corrected.

Smiling sheepishly, the Major clasped his hands behind his back. "Sorry, Adele, I knew it was something unconventional." Kneeling the man smiled at Langdon. "Hello, little man, I remember you."

The boy blinked at him, before reaching up and taking firm hold of O'Hara's shirt, bunching it in a little fist.

"He…he heard me!" O'Hara exclaimed, looking up at the others.

"I…fixed his hearing aid," Milton said. "Just a new battery and an adjustment in size."

O'Hara beamed. It was one of his rare, broad, shark-like grins. "That's great!"

"So, what else is new from the road?" Andrea asked as they all headed inside.

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******************************************************************************************georgiapeachs - Daryl would get attached to a home, wouldn't he? Poor baby.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I'm okay with that, Louise totes had Michael Madsen under her belt, so...yeah...(wait, she did, right? Yeah, I'm sure it was her...)******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - I think, if Milton was smart enough, he'd definitely know to have respect for Daryl's temper...******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - I'm almost tempted to have them get carried away with building the house and just load it up with stuff.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************You'reMyKindOfTrouble - This story should span a generation, actually. I had many requests for second generation stuff.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itsi3 - And it loves you, I know this because it has told me so! ^_^******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Merle's Right Hand - Well, maybe one day Milton will be besties with Daryl...******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************ArcheryLefty - I agree. Merle's character potential was totally wasted.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - I may be trying to work on that hook up...******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Natalia Vronsky - I think it'll be sweeter to have the doors and windows in their new home. Like a little touch of the old.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Milton is a nerd and I adore him! He's probably more nerdy in this story than he was on the show, but we also didn't get enough of a taste on the show. I crave more! More Milton!******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - Yes, there will be a journal entry/diary entry/letter or some form of written log at the beginning of each chapter. This is the new format I'm playing with.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Nerdymomma89 - Aw! Thank you! That's sweet! I appreciate your review! You have a beautiful day, my friend! ^_^******************************************************************************************


	3. Landslide

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**Milton's Historical Logs #90**

**Wednesday, July 23, 2014**

O'Hara arrived yesterday evening with six of his men, Sergeant Rhoades and Sergeant Fredricks.

While this is good news to hear that Tennessee and Georgia are otherwise quietened down, I am worried that this calm may precede a storm.

They not only came with good news about the peace of the two states, but that the region seems relatively free of infected. In fact in the past few weeks since the attack on the convent, I haven't seen a single infected walking about.

Granted I don't stray far from the convent.

Daryl has begun work on his new home with the help of his brother and the Lieutenant, who seems more interested in playing his squeezebox than actually helping. I hope no one dies, but…anyways.

I wandered in on Grace and Carol in the kitchens this morning, they were discussing wedding plans. I don't think Grace wants a big wedding, but I know she's eager to have it before she gets too big for her gown (her words not mine.) Carol on the other hand seemed oddly distracted. Of course neither woman noticed me at first, I find people don't tend to notice me much.

Rick's making huge strides in his recovery, but he did have youth on his side. He still seems more interested in Judith and the other children, wanting to remain close to them as though he personally made it his duty to keep watch over the children. No one else seems concerned, but I am worried that this change in personality isn't the only one. I'm only hoping that his changes are mild and not at all negative.

I'm worried about Herschel. Since losing Beth the old man hasn't been quite himself, he's still there, but I sometimes worry he may be heading downhill fast. Mrs. Douglas has been keeping him occupied with small things and St. James, Cash and myself have been playing whist in the infirmary after hours with the old man in the hopes of giving him some distraction, but Herschel is definitely still in a dark place from losing his last daughter. Maybe the wedding will do him good.

If the wedding ever happens.

**Current home population: 39 (Both Kowalski's and O'Hara and his men.)**

**Current away population: 0**

**Current forecast: 63º, Sunny**

**Current mood: Sore (I'm not made for physical labour. Next time Daryl threatens me I'll just say 'no gracias'.)**

**Addendum: I think Merle may actually kill the Lieutenant today. I don't think Merle cares much for zydeco music…**

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****St. James****

"_Les Mardi Gras s'en vient de tout partout, t__out alentour le tour du moyeu,__  
Ça passe une fois par an, demandé la charité, quand-même ça c'est une patate, une patate ou des gratons_."

"I swear I'm gonna choke that French turd out," Merle snarled.

Posted against the infirmary wall, St. James watched Merle as he raged at the Lieutenant nearby who was idly pushing and pulling on his squeezebox and crooning.

Merle, who – it seemed – was doing less than nothing at the moment, seemed easily disturbed by traditional Cajun music, which amused St. James and his fellow medical staff who had emerged from their sterile cave to listen to the music as a distraction from the beige nothing that had become life at the convent.

Sipping at his mug of coffee, a rare commodity and growing rarer by the day, St. James watched the Cajun as he smirked knowingly and continued his singing, playing oblivious to Merle's obvious irritation.

He supposed the Lieutenant was looking for a good fight after a few weeks of nothing but idle leisure.

Someone could die and St. James almost looked forward to it.

The Lieutenant wasn't the only one who was bored.

Daryl was working on his new home and from the looks of the foundation, it was going to be a masterpiece, four basic rooms, fieldstone foundation, even a root cellar for emergencies.

Turning his mug around and around in his hands, St. James studied the convent grounds, paying close attention to Adele and the Major. The poor woman was going to break her heart over that O'Hara, but there wasn't much St. James could say about it, Adele was her own woman.

Still he watched them carefully.

O'Hara seemed nice enough, but he was unavailable to the world, it was obvious by the way he cut himself off physically from it.

Although he couldn't really talk, Adele needed a companion, not a lover, she wasn't ready for that, but she needed warmth and friendship and St. James wasn't able to provide that properly to her.

But he still wasn't sure about O'Hara either. It could only end in heartbreak with that one.

"_Les Mardi Gras sont dessus un grand voyage, t__out alentour le tour du moyeu,__  
Ça passe une fois par an, demandé la charité, quand-même ça c'est un poule maigre, ou trois ou quatre coton maïs_."

"Cajun dick," Merle growled.

Everyone stopped what they were doing as Carol, Michonne and Grace approached, the two pregnant women swollen and beautiful, but also dangerous.

"Merle, honey, let him have his fun," Grace pleaded on behalf of her man. "He rarely gets the chance."

Merle acquiesced to the woman, offering her a small, mischievous grin.

St. James smiled warmly at Carol as she moved to stand beside him against the wall. She looked from him to Adele and O'Hara and back again.

He quirked a brow, but the woman merely smiled again and rubbed his upper arm.

The thought occurred to him then, that because he came from Adele's people, because he looked after her there to the best of his abilities (it was hard with thirty men watching him), that perhaps they thought he would be the one to hold Adele's affections. The truth was, the woman wasn't ready for anything serious and St. James wasn't the man she deserved.

Looking then from Carol to Daryl, St. James raised both his eyebrows in inquiry and Carol smiled sheepishly. She had admitted to him under doctor-patient confidentiality during her last check up, that her sex drive had been insatiable lately. Now it was a private joke they shared and he enjoyed that closeness to the woman. Carol was unlike any creature he had met as of yet, she was so pure and kind even after all the hell that had fallen upon them.

He would be honoured to be considered a close friend of hers.

Maybe it was because they had both lost a child. Carol, her beautiful angel of a daughter and he with his toddler son.

Well, he assumed his son was long gone. There was no real point in going home to check, not if he was going to walk into a scene of horror so black that it would taint his soul.

No, Brandon was dead. St. James' mother was dead, there was no one left at home for him to return to.

Of course, he didn't tell anyone about Brandon. His son was his own cherished secret, something his heart would hold on to, something his heart would keep safely locked away where he could pull it out at Christmas and on Brandon's birthday to dust off and air out fondly.

Spying Adele parting with O'Hara for the dorms, where he knew she would be putting Langdon and Celeste down for their midday nap, St. James downed his coffee and started off after her, with the excuse of returning the mug to the kitchens.

He paused by O'Hara who was helping Glenn and Layla clean weapons on the front lawn and knelt beside the Major, eyes on the trees beyond the convent walls.

"Hot today," he greeted calmly.

O'Hara nodded.

Glenn and Layla looked up at the two men, before Layla smiled and wiped her hands on the front of her loose dress, before pushing to her feet. Glenn was close on her tail, following the beautiful woman into the church.

O'Hara watched them go calmly, blinking at the backs of them, before turning patient eyes on St. James.

"I like you, Major," St. James said. "But I adore Adele."

O'Hara quirked a brow, but said nothing.

"She needs nurturing and growth, but before she can blossom, she needs to be tended to gently."

The soldier was quiet for a moment, offering the former Air Force medic to contemplate his next words carefully.

"I don't care if you return her interest, but I do care whether or not—"

"I see," O'Hara said, his voice distant as though carried through a great mountain train tunnel. Steadily, the man pushed to his feet and stood awkwardly for a moment, hands twitching at his side, before he turned sharply and marched off, heading for the gate.

St. James watched the man hop up onto the wall with a frown, unsure whether his talk was successful or not.

Finally he stood up and headed into the dorms where Adele had disappeared, hoping to find her and feel her mental state out.

Maybe he was prying a little into her personal life, but he honestly felt responsible for her heart. It was so fragile, so innocent and beautiful despite the hell her 'father' had put her through.

The sound of someone singing a Fleetwood Mac song in a sweet, arid Cajun tone had him stopping at a particular room and lingering in the doorway, watching as Adele (much like her brother) crooned lovingly to the children in her charge.

The woman was perched on the edge of a bed, hand rubbing circles in Langdon's chest, soothing the boy's soft hiccupping cries as he drifted into an angry nap.

Setting his empty coffee mug on a nearby icon pedestal, St. James folded his arms and leaned in the doorway, smiling at Adele's sweet singing.

"I'm not saying we need to revolt or anything," Andrea's voice disturbed his enjoyment of the song as the woman passed by him in the hall, side by side with Cash. "But we really need to establish some sort of leader before we fall prey to more attacks."

"Who the hell is gonna attack us?" Cash demanded. "Think we killed everyone within a hundred miles of Georgia…"

Quirking a brow at the two, he turned back to enjoying Adele's singing to find the woman facing him from her spot on the bed, quietly watching him just standing in the doorway.

He straightened. "I was…looking for a good excuse to be creeping around the doorway," he explained sheepishly.

She smiled and motioned him inside.

St. James stepped into the room.

Adele continued to gently soothe Langdon's mewling. "He's decided to attach himself firmly to Major O'Hara," she said with a gentle smile.

St. James nodded. "O'Hara is…different."

"He's kind," she said.

"He's…different."

Adele looked at him with her large grey eyes. "You don't like him?"

"I…do like him, actually, I just…don't want to get too attached to him."

She tilted her head.

"In case he…well he's in a dangerous position, you know?"

The Lieutenant burst in quietly, which seemed to St. James a feat to accomplish, but the six-something giant Cajun looked like he was about to explode.

"I'm getting married," he hissed.

"Yes," St. James replied.

"Tomorrow, you'll be there, yeah?"

"We…couldn't find an excuse not to even if we wanted," St. James returned.

"Stag night tonight," the Cajun stated, pointing at the medic. "Karaoke, drinking and Mrs. Douglas said she'd strip, so bring your greenbacks." He took two steps to his sister, pecked her on the top of her head and hurried out.

St. James took a moment.

"Did he say Mrs. Douglas—"

"Yes," he confirmed.

"I suppose we make do with what we have," she pointed out softly.

"I'm more curious about where he thinks we're going to find the gear for karaoke," St. James murmured.

"Don't underestimate my brother," Adele said, adoration in her voice. "He's brilliant."

Leaning against the wall, he returned to his silent vigil as Adele continued crooning to the children. He wondered briefly if he should continue trying to gently warn her of O'Hara and the precarious situation she could find herself in with him, but decided against it for the moment. Adele was happy and he couldn't be the one to bring her heart down from soaring once more.

Instead he turned his mind to wondering whether or not Carol and Daryl would officially marry now. Maybe when Daryl saw the Lieutenant marrying, it would encourage him to do so. Not that St. James needed them to marry, but he would welcome as many celebrations as the convent could have.

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******************************************************************************************itsi3 -**** I think we can all agree that insatiable Carol is perhaps the best problem Daryl could have.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - As always, you seem to be on my trail. ^_^******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I seriously think Michonne enjoys the hunt more than the actual stringing up and gutting of her prey. Hehe.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************georgiapeachs - I seriously would love it if there was a whole box of sex toys just sitting around in the bowels of the dormitory cellar...like this thought haunts my every waking minute.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - My mom too. 'I love you more' is the sweetest thing I can imagine. I don't know why. *sap*******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - Milton, always practical, but never prepared for street wise situations.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************DarylDixon'sLover - Thank you.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Daryl and the Lt are so much like brothers at this point, I love the idea of them physically tousling and fighting like giant kids and Carol and Grace having to break it up.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - I agree. That poor boy is in for a huge shock.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Yikes! You are a brave soul for reading GD&amp;S, BCB and JtCR in two days...my hat is off to you, my friend! And thank you for the sweet review! You're a beautiful human being! I hope good things come your way! ^_^******************************************************************************************


	4. Road To Nowhere

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**Spot Report - Major Henry O'Hara  
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**Wednesday, July 23, 2014**

Returned to The Convent at 1400 and change, came in from the North with the wind in our faces. All seems well.

The group that had entered Atlanta under Carl Grimes' command has returned without any casualties. From reports from members of the group the supplies they found will see them safely through the winter and into the Spring.

Their former commander, Rick Grimes, father of Carl, seems to have handed his command over and the spot for leadership is up in the air. No one seems interested.

Heard ripples and murmurs amongst members of The Convent group that Andrea Harrison, a member of the original Atlanta group is displeased with this lack of leadership and wishes to nominate herself for position of commander.

No word yet on how many amongst The Convent's people feel about this.

My own men are still well supplied, but I am worrying about winter.

Will tell Sergeant Fredricks that we'll head into Nashville next time we're in Tennessee, see if we can scrounge up the same kind of supplies Carl did.

I'm beginning to think we may need to find a place and settle enough to plant crops and a garden next year. We can't keep living off of scraps and road rations.

By 1500 today I learned that Lieutenant Lafayette Vancoughnett IV will be commencing with his plans of marrying the former Mother Superior of this convent, Grace Harper. My men and I will remain long enough to take part in this celebration, not only because we've been asked by the Lieutenant, who is a good Marine and close personal friend of Sergeant Rhoades', but because the leave may be invigorating for my men.

I have to find a way to shake that Marine Rhoades from my ass, the man is a menace and I'm not entirely convinced he earned his rank.

My concern as of late has been whether or not to worry The Convent with our discovery in Northern Tennessee, to be honest I'm not entirely sure how to handle it myself. I did not have the heart to tell them that the rest of my men are not stationed nearby, but still up in Tennessee tracking leads on whoever caused the fire, and what exactly happened on that farm.

For the time being, I suppose, until the wedding, I will hold my tongue and keep my vigilance.

I'm curious here at The Convent as to where this St. James came from and why he has taken to watching me lately. I've heard from others through casual inquiries that he was a member of the Air Force and had been swept up by the group that came before us, a group – I've been told – of rapists and murderers. Common road house rabble who wanted to watch the world burn, my understanding is that both Adele Deveau and St. James come from this group.

I don't like the idea that St. James, innocent hostage or not, is allowed to wander free without due punishment for taking up arms with such a group.

Maybe he just unnerves me. I don't appreciate being scrutinized by a flightless goose.

**Update as of 1600 **– I understand now why St. James kept his eye on me so closely. He wandered over casually and informed me that this young Adele Deveau has taken a liking to me. I did not encourage any affection and will do my best to release her back into the wild without breaking her. Mine is not a life of affection or fondness, but duty to my men and what's left of my country.

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****Daryl****

"_Cabri_."

Stopping halfway through loading up a truck, Daryl pulled himself out from the cab and watched the approaching Cajun quietly.

Grinning from ear to ear, the taller man dropped his pack on the ground and knelt to dig through it.

"I was thinking of your problem, you know, the one with our angel and I thought maybe you could use this," he glanced around before pulling a slim purple hunk of silicon from his pack, offering it up to Daryl with shining eyes.

Feeling his face grow red, Daryl looked around, before snarling, "why the hell do you think—"

"To save your dick," the Lieutenant explained.

"Okay, so why are you carrying it around in your pack?" He demanded.

"Because I can't just store this with the rest of the supplies, no Merle and I put these special supplies in the woods under a pile of branches. Almost got my ass chewed on by a fucking possum getting this for you," the Cajun wiggled the thing at Daryl who still eyed it like it was a loaded gun. "Take it, _cabri_, before one of the little ones comes scurrying."

Debating internally whether he should touch the thing or just leave the Cajun hanging, Daryl sighed and shifted on his feet.

"It's brand new, Merle and I raided a sex shop a few towns over a week or two before we left for Louisiana."

"I don't care, I'm not touching that fucking thing and why the hell were you raiding a sex shop with Merle?!"

"For times like this? And don't be such a child," the Lieutenant stated. "I'm not asking you to stuff it up your ass. Trust me, _cabri_, it'll save you wear and tear on your wee Dixon."

"I'm trying to wrap my head around the fact that you're giving me a rubber dick to give to Carol," Daryl said, still red as a beet.

"I could cut out the middle man and just give it to her myself," the Lieutenant pointed out quickly.

Taking the thing gingerly between his thumb and forefinger, Daryl looked around for something to hide it in and came up with an old plastic grocery bag shoved under the seat of the truck. He wrapped the purple dick up tight and then wrapped the bag in a greasy towel, before shooting Fay a withering look.

"Batteries are included, _cabri_!" Fay shouted after him as Daryl tore off across the convent lawns for the dorms where Carol had put their sleeping bag in the corner of Grace and Fay's room until their home was finished.

Inside the dorm room, he shoved the thing into his personal pack, pushing it way down to the very bottom.

"Where are you going?"

He jumped up and turned to find Carol and Grace standing in the doorway.

"What?" He demanded.

"We saw you packing up the truck," Carol explained.

"Oh, just heading into town for supplies." He hoped to God they didn't see what Fay had shoved at him.

"For this silly Cajun party that redwood of mine is throwing?" Grace inquired.

Daryl shrugged. "We could use some stuff for it, sure."

"Is Mrs. Douglas really going to strip?" Carol asked with a grin. "I kind of want to see that."

For the second time in ten minutes, Daryl flushed bright red.

"Seems she made a solemn promise to Lafayette, that crazy old woman," Grace sighed. "I think she's sweet on him."

"Well, I guess it wouldn't be a bachelor party if there wasn't a stripper," Carol pointed out. "And since neither of us are in any condition to strip for him…"

"Aw now, girls," the Lieutenant said as he moved to stand behind them in the doorway. "You're both still beautiful enough to give any pro exotic dancer a run for her money."

They both turned to look at him disapprovingly, causing the Cajun to flash them one of his winning grins, the one that irked Daryl's inner jealousy monster.

"What do you say, magpie?" The Lieutenant teased, tweaking Grace's chin. "Wanna earn a few hundred dollars for a night?"

"I'd rather run off and find another man to marry," the woman shot back sternly.

"You know women have bachelorette parties, Lieutenant," Carol pointed out. "Maybe we should be soliciting you to bare all for our cheap entertainment."

"Trust me, _ange_, I wouldn't be cheap," Fay shot back.

"I'm not having a silly party," Grace said firmly. "Bunch of women gathering around and clucking about men, sounds like any night at the bonfire when the brutes are out and about."

"Really?" Carol asked.

Daryl could hear the disappointment in her voice and he glanced over at Fay, catching the man's eye.

The Cajun stepped in on his behalf with a smirk. "Doesn't matter, _ange_, you come to my party and pretend to be a brute for a night, yeah? Chromosomes mean nothing at a Cajun stag party."

Giving the man a thankful nod, Daryl stepped away from their corner and headed for the woman at the door, giving her a peck on the cheek.

"See?" He said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him gently. "You'll have fun."

"Now," the Lieutenant said, "you two get the hell out of our room, I'm gonna show this lady how exotic my dancing can be."

Grace flushed prettily like a pink rose and slapped his chest. "Show some manners to our guests, you wolf!"

"Or they could stay and watch," the Lieutenant growled, scooping Grace up. "I really don't care either way."

Daryl and Carol both stepped back from the door and closed it quickly.

In the dim hall, Daryl glanced over at Carol and found her chuckling softly. He smiled and took her hand in his.

They walked away from the room quickly, heading for the sunshine at the end of the hall.

"So, you're heading out?" Carol asked as they strolled in the sunshine, his large, rough hand wrapped securely around her tiny, rough one.

He nodded. "I'm thinking we'll need some things for this party. The damned Cajun wants karaoke, but he seems to think it'll fly out of his ass, maybe we'll try that cowboy bar in town, seems like one of those places that usually have a karaoke night. Then we'll grab some booze while we're there."

"You big softie," she teased.

He scowled and rubbed muddy gack off his pants with the palm of his hand. "Naw, just needs to be done. Make the big dumb ass happy."

"He's like a giant great Dane puppy."

He snorted.

They paused by the truck, still hand in hand, watching Rick as he slowly moved after Annie and Olivia as the girls raced for the tree swing.

Daryl scowled. The man still hadn't come back to them completely. He seemed like an entirely different man, quiet and withdrawn. Beyond them, near the gate, the soldier's makeshift camp was quiet, the men of O'Hara's company lingering around their fire and dozing in their tents, resting easy in the safety of the convent walls, the Major himself was sitting high on the wall where he had planted since earlier that day.

"He's happy," Carol remarked. "He deserves to be happy."

Daryl nodded.

"What about you?" She asked, bumping him playfully with her shoulder.

He rocked on his feet, still eyeing the going's on around them. "Yeah, I'm happy."

It was hard for him to admit that, whenever he did in the past shit happened that fucked him over.

Carol smiled and watched Glenn and Merle as they approached. "Me too."

Smiling shyly at Carol, he dipped his head. "Good."

"Yep."

"Going somewhere?" Merle asked.

"Can we come?" Glenn pleaded. "I'm bored as hell."

"Ooh, me too!" Cash exclaimed from behind them. "Shotgun!"

As the blond made a dive into the cab of the truck, Merle caught him by the ass of his pants and yanked him out, throwing him backwards.

"I always have shotgun," Merle rasped, climbing into the truck. "You and Short Round can ride in the back."

Carol and Daryl exchanged a look.

"Just like children," she muttered.

Again he dipped his head. "Yep."

She touched his arm and tugged him down for a quick kiss, before waddling off towards the infirmary.

Daryl watched her for a moment, smiling a little at the sway of her ass and the ease with which her hips rolled. He couldn't deny she was very beautiful in her easy femininity. Carol didn't need frilly dresses or makeup to be a woman, she just was, it came to her naturally. As easy as breathing.

"Get your goddamned elbow out of my crotch, you crab infested dick!" Merle growled behind him.

"It's so cold riding in the back!" Cash protested. "Let me just sit in your lap!"

Deciding he would leave them all in town to walk their asses back, Daryl climbed into the driver's seat, ignoring Merle and Cash who were still fighting in the passenger seat and Glenn who huddled far from the fight to avoid a stray limb in his face and twisted the key in the ignition with a little satisfying burst of irritated rage.

As they drove towards the gate, Merle got the passenger door open and Cash went tumbling out onto the grassy gravel.

Daryl didn't even slow down.

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******************************************************************************************vickih - I agree. I don't think the Caryl relationship is like our Lace babies. They don't need a marriage to be together. And I'm sure if Grace wasn't Catholic, the Lt wouldn't care one way or the other either.  
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******************************************************************************************DarylDixon'sLover - I hope it will be!******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - Between Milton and his logbook? Yeah, it's true love.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I agree. I want Milton to get the love and adoration he deserves.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Oh, Mrs. Douglas is most definitely gonna strip! ^_^******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Milton's logs will be ongoing here and there. He is one of the most observant and fastidious characters.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - Oh, you will not be disappointed by the stag party.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Good question. Why is Merle in a grumpy mood...?******************************************************************************************


	5. Annie's Song

**Head's up. Merle is Merle in this chapter. So...be forewarned. Also my spellcheck had a crap attack over Annie's essay, so enjoy the cause of its meltdown!**

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**Essay on My Home by Annie Louise Miller (Age 8)**

This is my essay on my home. Im riting it because Antie Carol said I had to, but I dont like riting becuz its hard. I wanted to rite about my dog Boo, becuz she is a gud dog, but mama said that I have to lissen to Antie Carol and do my homewerk.

My home is big, it goes all the way from one wall to the other and theirs about a brillion grasses.

Theirs a church, its big. I dont like Jeezus looking down at me becuz hes got bloods on him and one time Olivea said that she saw him wink at us. I shud get daddy to throw Jeezus over the wall so that the monsters can eat him. I dont trust winking Jeezus. But dont tell mama that, she mite get mad.

Antie Carol gives hugs, mama gives me long talks about stuff. Daddy said its' becuz mama came from the brier pach. But dont tell her he said that, shell give him a long talk too.

Then my home has a lot of people who are nice. I like Glen the best, he sits and tells me stuff, but Olivea said that Glen is her boyfrend.

Olivia is stoopid.

And then theirs Rik, hes quiet now and he used to be fun. He has a litle gurl named Judith and Carl.

I live in the door ums with my mama and daddy, their not really my mama and daddy, but they are now. I cant member much about my old mama and daddy, Hershell said its gud becuz it mite hert me more to member them.

My mama is butifull. She has blue eyes and black hair with grey in it. I wish I looked like her insted of me becuz Im an ugly trol Olivea said so.

My daddy is big. He has big feet and ruff hands.

Unkel Darel is my faverut two. Hes grumpy but he always lets me hug him. I like hugs. He went out today with Unkel Meril and Glen to get things. Kash fell out of the truk. It was funny. Olivea and me laffed for owers.

Today is a specul day becuz Majer Ohaira is here and I like to look at the men with him becuz they were green and I think of daddy when I see them. When I grow up I want to be a man who weres green. Majer Ohaira said that I could be whatever I want to be when I grow up and so I told him I want to be a man in green. Majer Ohaira has pridy eyes and he smells like nite rain but Im not supposed to touch him. Mabe Ill make him my boyfrend and Olivea can be stoopid with Glen.

Oh, also today is a specul day becuz daddy and mama are gunna get marrid. So that daddy can call mama his wif and mama can call him her huzbin.

When I grow up tho Im gunna marry Rik becuz he needs hugs. Daddy said I cud hug anyone I want becuz I have my own jujmint and its' gud. I think hugs are nice.

Oh unkel Meril is my faverut two. He has a big hand and then a nife on the other arm. Sometimes he says bad werds but I cant rite them here. But one of them is fuk. He says that a lot.

Nadeer is my frend. But hes also stoopid. Daddy says cool yawns are danjerus. Cool yawn means stoopid in my daddys speak. And that's Nadeer and Olivea.

Theirs Kash and Lala and Mary Clar and Mary Agniz and Tyris and Sasha and Andrea and Mishon and I love them all.

My home also has an infermery and its were Saint James lives with Miltun and Missus Duglass. Sometimes Hershell lives there two. One time I saw a monster gunna eat the infermery but then Saint James and Miltun punshed it becuz their strawn. Mama said it never happined but it did and I saw it!

Unkel Meril could punsh things but then hed stab them insted becuz he has a nife arm. Its pridy cool.

My home also has a swing.

The End

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****Glenn****

They were walking in the goddawful damp heat for an hour, going door-to-door in the town searching for booze and other tidbits for a party.

Daryl took to the bar on his own to load the karaoke equipment, while Merle and Glenn wandered around for various things, Merle claiming that they had to find something for the Lieutenant.

At first Glenn thought Merle was threatening or fucking with him, but after a few places, it seemed the oldest Dixon was intent on actually finding something suitable.

"Ain't everyday a coonass actually marries the woman he pops," Merle growled when Glenn asked him about the hunt. "Gotta celebrate the breaking of backwater bayou tradition. Besides, I'll say one thing for the Cajuns, they have parties that live on in infamy. You can bet your tits we'll all get laid."

"By women, right?" Glenn teased.

Merle paused and turned to Glenn. "Jesus, let's hope."

Beaming at the companionable comfort zone he seemed to have reached with the man, Glenn pushed open a door carefully and stepped into the cooler climate of a home.

The home was styled nicely, probably a household belonging to someone of importance in the small town, like mayor or maybe the local doctor or something. Glenn kept his eyes open for something nice to decorate the wolves den with. The other men might like their underpants airing on every available surface, but Glenn yearned for something a little nicer.

But not too nice, he didn't need Merle tormenting him about wanting a…whatever. Like a houseplant that somehow survived or something.

Not that he was expecting a houseplant to have survived, the ones he saw so far were pretty desiccated.

But maybe a nice fake one or something.

Merle was picking up a pair of decent looking boots from by the doorway and eyeballing them up for size for his feet. Glenn saw the perfect thing for Grace's wedding gift just beyond the burly man and made a mad dash for it.

Plucking the pretty Madonna off the sidetable in the front hall, he smiled a little and held it up to Merle who was scowling at him.

"Wedding gift for Grace," Glenn explained. "You think?"

Merle shrugged. "Doesn't matter what we get her, the woman will say she loves it."

Glenn smiled at the Virgin Mary statue and nodded. "But she'll like this one, though."

"Whatever," Merle moved off into the next room, stuffing his new boots into the pack at his side.

Following Merle, cradling his find, Glenn found the kitchen to be in disarray, obviously someone had already been here and it most likely could have been someone from their group.

But it wasn't the cupboards Merle was interested in, but the still locked cabinet above the peninsula.

"Liquor cabinet?" Glenn asked.

"Or something that needs locking up," Merle said. "Obviously didn't interest whoever ransacked this place."

"Probably liquor."

"Nah," Merle said. "They would have grabbed it for Herschel in the infirmary."

"Maybe this place was overlooked?"

"Unless an idiot like Cash was put in charge of it, then I doubt that." Merle busted the lock off with a nearby rolling pin. "Could be though."

Inside the cabinet was a few half empty bottles of wine and whiskey, enough for someone to get tanked, but not enough for a party.

Merle stuffed them into his pack as well, before they tread carefully into the next room.

"Can I ask you something?" Glenn asked as they searched the dining room.

Merle grunted.

Taking that as a go ahead, Glenn licked his bottom lip and said, "you think you'd ever get married? I mean, times being what they are and all."

"Shit no," Merle said. "Not the type."

"Not even if you…you know? Fell in love?"

Merle scowled darkly at him. "You were getting on my good side, but now, I dunno, you're a pussy again."

Glenn frowned. "It's not an insult, have you seen the size of babies, fucking hell, Merle!"

Merle laughed at the younger man. "Alright, pull your tampon out, it's up too far in there."

Still seething a bit, Glenn hugged his found treasure a little closer to his chest and shrugged. "It's just…you know. Look how excited we all are about this wedding. Like, something good is happening for once."

"So? The sun rises every goddamned morning, Short Round, it's a fucking miracle," Merle snapped.

"Never mind," Glenn snarled.

Merle laughed again and slung his blade arm around Glenn's shoulders. "Listen, it is good that the Cajun is making an honest woman of Grace and it's even nicer that I can get tanked off my ass and maybe punch a fucker in the mouth tonight, but we could do that any night if we wanted."

"Yeah, but we don't."

"Because we have shit to do."

"So, then it is nice to have a wedding, right?"

"Sure. But not for the ceremony, for the party. I could care less if God gets his rocks off by witnessing some words and shit. You know Grace and coonass would be together regardless, only it's what Grace wants."

They fell back into rummaging through the house.

"You really aren't going to punch someone tonight, are you?" Glenn asked.

"I'm a complex man, Short Round," Merle drawled with a grin. "Some nights the dragon takes me, some nights I take the dragon."

"Yeah," Glenn agreed, before the words registered. "Wait, what?" He demanded as they pushed into the master bedroom.

"I bet there's kinky shit here," Merle stated, kicking aside a heap of dried skin and bones. "Oh, I'm getting Grace something to satisfy her needs better than the coonass ever will."

Glenn looked down at the Madonna he clutched. "You're getting her a used sex toy?"

"Or porn," Merle said. "Women like that shit, right?"

"Merle, she used to be a nun."

"Wait, didn't I scrounge a bunch of dildos with that coonass from somewhere?" Merle murmured to himself, ignoring Glenn and sort of phasing out, his eyes focused on the middle distance. "Where'd we put them? Shit…"

"I'm pretty sure the Lieutenant doesn't like it when you call him coo…that word," Glenn said.

"Jesus, I can't even remember where we stashed them," Merle shook his head. "Maybe I'll just add my name to whatever pansy assed shit Carol finds for her and Daryl to give the old girl. Now, something for the coonass." Merle got to his knees and dug under the bed.

Glenn dropped the Madonna as Merle gave a shout and fought with something under the bed. Dropping to his knees to help the man in a wild panic, Glenn pulled his gun and aimed it under the bed.

Merle sat up with a grin, holding both arms up. "Shit yourself?"

"I fucking hate you," Glenn huffed.

"You broke your gift," Merle pointed out, helping himself to one of the bottles of whiskey.

"You dick." Glenn snarled.

Merle offered Glenn the bottle with a smirk. "Come on, Short Round, let's dig into the firewater early and say 'fuck it' to worrying about gifts."

"That's incredibly racist," Glenn muttered taking a swig of whiskey and trying hard not to react to how bad it burned going down.

"Do you even know me?" Merle demanded taking the bottle back.

They sat there for a while polishing off the bottle, before Merle picked up the head of the Virgin Mary and set it on a nearby bedside table to look down at them as they got a little pre-buzzed for the party.

Glenn tried to hide the grin at the action, but failed.

"Fuck it," Merle stated. "It was ugly as shit anyways. One less religious creep to stare at me when I'm trying to squeeze some nun ass."

Smiling at the Dixon, Glenn kicked Mary's body away to make space for his legs as he stretched them out before him.

"So you and Sister Joan?" Glenn asked.

"None of your fucking business," Merle snapped. "No."

"Mary Claire?"

"Agnes."

This shocked Glenn, Mary Agnes didn't seem the type Merle would go for. He always thought Merle would be the shallow type and go for younger and prettier. Hell, if Sister Elizabeth had lived, he would have gone to her first.

"Think Daryl would ever—"

"No."

"But Carol—"

"Nah, them two don't need the fucking validation of a marriage."

"But maybe—"

"Nope." Merle pushed Mary's head enough to get it wobbling back and forth precariously. "You? Ever going to let some woman tie you down?"

Glenn shrugged. "Probably not."

"Come on," Merle said. "You hooked up with that girl of yours for what? Like a month or two?"

"All winter."

"Still. You weren't clipped like a gelding, were you?"

"I…don't…know." Glenn replied, not sure what that even meant.

"So, you find yourself another and move on."

He shrugged. "I loved her though."

"I love whiskey, but I'm not going to pass up the chance to take a swig of beer," Merle rasped, taking a swallow of the amber liquid. "Trust me, Short Round, you'll find yourself another one. Women are a dime a dozen these days and guess what? You're one of the last men left alive, so…you have that goin' for you, which is nice."

"Is that how you landed one?" Glenn asked with a cheeky grin.

"The woman ain't blind," Merle stated. "She took a look and had her pick."

"Oh, so you're the prize hog."

"Listen here you little shit," Merle began.

For a moment Glenn thought the man was going to take a swing.

Instead, Merle took another swig of whiskey and tucked the bottle away. "Better save this for later," he explained, pushing to his feet.

"I'm the one you're going to punch in the mouth later, aren't I?" Glenn asked meekly.

"Naw, I'm saving that for Cash."

"If he's still alive after you road rolled him."

"If he isn't, then I'm going to punch his corpse, walking around or not."

Glenn beamed.

"This is going to be a party to end all parties," Merle reassured him as they headed out of the room.

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******************************************************************************************DarylDixon'sLover - Um...indeed?******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - For you? A chapter on giving the D to C? Got it! Whatever you wish, my friend!******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - Who doesn't love their Caryl moments? And you know the Lt is gonna be happy as a clam over Mrs. Douglas stripping.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - Cash is like a cockroach, you can't really kill him...******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Everything? Nothing? Sit here and eat cheetos in my underpants? Ponder the existence of rubber bands and if they feel pain when snapped against someone?******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - I could only imagine Daryl's initial panic over the Lt holding a penis shaped purple monstrosity up at him.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - I accept your mental image of the Lt and Clyde fighting for scratchies and see you a mental image of the Lt curled up at the bottom of Daryl and Carol's bed, his leg twitching as he dreamed of chasing rabbits.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - Oh, I know exactly what you were getting at. You weren't exactly subtle. ^_^******************************************************************************************


	6. Southern Angel

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**Milton's Historical Logs #93**

**Friday, July 25, 2014**

Tonight we celebrate the Lieutenant's upcoming marriage to Grace with a bachelor party. Supposedly there will be karaoke and Mrs. Douglas has volunteered to strip (confirmation most definitely needed.)

I have been tasked with set up. The excess power from my solar cells will be put into this night and since there's a bit of a breeze, I'm going to try to get my wind turbine working to give us some extra juice, but it's not big nor is it very powerful, I could only attach it to the precarious cross at the top of the church in order to get proper wind over the trees.

Rick has offered to help me with set up. I accepted. The man seems to be floating about looking for a place. He most certainly isn't interested in leadership anymore, not even interested in giving anyone advice or orders.

But he's good at helping, follows orders, does what he's told, keeps quiet and works hard.

I do sometimes wish he would come back to us completely though. Despite the fact that I fear I am a ghost among my own people, I often worry about them to the appropriate degree anyone would. We're stronger as a whole and if one person is weak, we all feel the effects.

I'm afraid I don't possess the social skill it would take to bring Rick back to us completely. Maybe the Lieutenant or Carol, though Daryl and even Merle seem to be coming along fine in their social skills.

Merle, surprisingly enough, has become one of our most reliable people. Only just the other day he approached me and we held a fairly amiable chat, which for Merle was a huge step. I actually found him to be smarter than I gave him credit. When we were at Woodbury together I had merely thought him to be a brute. The muscle of Philip's schemes, but I was mistaken then as I have been these past few months.

Andrea has been worrying me lately. She's been talking to people, filling them with doubt and worry over our leadership and our future. I'm not saying that we shouldn't worry that we don't have someone to tell us exactly where we are heading, I only wish she wouldn't do it in such a subversive manner. It could only cause turmoil and possibly even revolt.

Since I'm not a seditionist, I will gladly make a note of it to Carol or possibly Grace, the two women seem to be the ones to go to for things like this.

**Current home population: 396 (Both Kowalski's and O'Hara and his men still present.)**

**Current away population: 3 (Daryl, Glenn and Merle went out for supplies.)**

**Current forecast: 60º, Partly Sunny**

**Current mood: Busy**

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****Michonne****

Inside the church was cool and deliciously dark, the only light coming through the stained glass, throwing colours onto the freshly scrubbed floor.

The lush red carpet had been removed due to fire damage, leaving the aisle somehow bare looking.

Rick stood at the front of the church quietly unrolling an extension cord, his back to her.

"Where's Milton?" She asked. "I thought he was on set up."

The man angled his head to her. "I don't know. Stepped out."

Michonne hummed and took a seat in one of the pews, her katana sheath clunking against the wood.

Rick worked on quietly, he walked with a somewhat stalled gait, his one leg dragging only a little.

"You know if we really wanted to," Milton burst into the church from the back door, arms full of electrical equipment, "we could harvest a lot of wind power, if we could only get up over those trees. Build a—" he stopped mid-sentence, spying her sitting amongst them and dropped his equipment onto the floor. "I'll be right back."

The blond man hustled from the church like a mouse scurrying along the floorboards of a room, causing Michonne to grin.

Rick angled his face to her again.

She shrugged. "What? A little cat and mouse never hurt nobody."

"He know you're only playing?" Rick demanded.

"Who said I was playing?"

The man fell silent again, kneeling to sort through the equipment.

Michonne moved to help him, knowing how he still had a few mobility issues. She hated to see the man in such a state. He used to be pretty damned impressive, lanky, with wolf eyes and a real commanding presence. Now he was hollow, like his skin was parchment and nothing resided beneath it.

"I think he's cute," she said. "For a white boy."

Rick didn't say anything, just continued to sort through the wires and cords and adapters Milton had brought.

"Having settled here, maybe a woman's natural instinct is to settle her heart too," she suggested.

Rick still didn't say anything.

She narrowed her eyes at him, deciding that if he was going to play the quiet game, she wouldn't ruin the moment by chatting any further.

They worked together quietly, before Milton returned, this time he was struggling under the weight of an amp, Daryl following behind with a speaker.

"You found a machine then?" Michonne greeted, helping Milton with the amp.

Daryl nodded. "Yeah. Got everything, even found some booze."

She beamed. "The Lieutenant'll be happy."

"I hope so, moving these speakers on my own was a real bitch," Daryl said.

Michonne didn't miss the quiet, studious look Daryl gave Rick, nor did she miss the way Rick quietly wandered away and out into the growing dusk.

"He needs snap out of it," Daryl growled.

Michonne sighed. "He's been beat."

"Rick ain't ever beat."

"When Agamemnon took from Achilles the maiden Brisbeis, the great warrior sulked in his tent for days," Milton said from his place on the floor behind the speaker.

"So?" Daryl demanded.

"It took the death of his beloved brother-in-arms Patroclus to ignite the fire of war inside Achilles chest," Milton went on.

"But re-joining the war ultimately meant the end of Achilles," Michonne pointed out with a cat-like smirk. "Don't think that's what we want for Rick."

Milton poked his head up above the speaker like one of those moles in a whack-a-mole game and adjusted his glasses. "Well, it wouldn't have been a Greek tragedy if everyone had lived. There must always be a death in a story, otherwise it's a fairytale."

She beamed, noticing Daryl beside them looking mildly irritated, she began, "the story of Achilles is from the Iliad."

"I know what the fuck it's from," the man snarled. "I just don't know what the hell Homer has to do with Rick acting like a goddamned dog hiding under the porch licking his neuter wounds."

Michonne looked Daryl up and down appreciatively. She often forgot, due to his scruffy, unwashed, backwoods look, that the man had more brains than he knew what to do with.

Behind them Milton slowly ducked back down and returned to work.

"He'll come around," she said after a moment.

Daryl grunted in disgust and tore off to get more of the equipment.

Michonne was about to approach Milton, hoping to maybe stoop over and blow down the back of his neck just to tease him a little, when the back door opened and Grace stepped in quietly. The woman moving softly across the floor of her ruined and once again restored sanctuary.

Michonne had to admire how small, how doll-like the woman was, so dainty and petite, yet she could command an army with a word if she truly wanted. Hers wasn't a solid strength like Carol's, but an almost mystical one.

Somewhere deep in her mind, Michonne liked to imagine Grace was a fairy Queen, while Carol was earthly, more like a nymph Queen. To be honest, she would give either woman her complete allegiance if they only asked.

"So the silly Cajun is going through with this so called 'stag' party, is he?" She asked Michonne in her soft, Southern belle tone.

"I think it'll do everyone good," Michonne said.

"I heard rumours, through the ever present grapevine, that Mrs. Douglas is going to…well for lack of a better term, dance the dance of the seven veils," Grace went on.

Michonne smiled. "I've heard those rumours too."

Grace looked about at her church.

The Lieutenant had almost single handedly restored it himself and while it was cobbled together here and there, it wasn't entirely offensive.

"Hmm," Grace said. "Could use some decoration."

"You don't mind having a stag party here?" Michonne asked.

The woman shrugged. "I want everyone here to be happy, to forget the world if only for one night." She looked up at the covered wooden planks over head.

Michonne too had wondered when the Lieutenant first opened the church back up, why he had put in a second floor overhead, why he had cut off the mezzanine from the area below, but the man had said it was for structure safety reasons.

Of course, that didn't explain the padlock or the door he had put in at the bottom of the stairs.

Grace touched a hand to the base of her throat. "I suppose I should throw something for the women," she murmured. "Though, it may not be so much fun as this…"

Michonne wondered why Grace sounded so desolate, like she had just been informed she was dying or something. It worried her.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"I was sitting in my office, going over the scriptures, but my mind was wandering," Grace explained. "I need a dress, I don't want to look like a slob, but…at my age wearing a wedding gown just seems silly. I'm much too old to be yearning for such girlish dreams and desires."

"You're having a baby soon," Michonne pointed out. "You can't be that old."

"Oh, a miracle child, I'm sure."

Taking Grace by the arm, Michonne lead the woman to a pew and out of the way of Daryl who was bringing in another speaker. "Maybe," she said once they were seated, "God extended your youth for this purpose. Because he knew one day a man would come along who loved you like this, who would complete your life like this."

Grace scoffed. "Michonne, I don't think you're one for flowery prose. No, my life was complete enough without Lafayette and this child."

Michonne was quiet, unsure how to respond to that.

"Not to say I'm not happy, I am. I'm…perhaps I'm only a little scared. I've never been married to a mortal man before." Grace patted her hand companionably. "I come from a long line of housewives and I mean, the frilly dress, apron, pearl necklace, high heels to cook a roast, kind of housewife and…I feel like I need to be this kind of woman for Fayette, but…well I'm not, am I? To be honest, I've always been the odd duck."

"Well," she began, "I think the Lieutenant is a bit of an odd duck too, isn't he?"

Grace laughed softly.

"And I think it's because you're an odd duck that he loves you," Michonne finished.

"Oh, you're so kind to say, Michonne. Only, I sometimes feel like, maybe I'm too cruel, too hard on Lafayette. This is, I suppose, what frightens me most. That maybe I'll wear him down, that he'll lose that spark of his that I love so much. Maybe all my nagging and lecturing will—"

"No," Michonne cut her off. "I think even as we speak, you two are falling into a wonderful rhythm. He knows you lecture him, it's why he pushes you and not to be crass, but I think he kind of likes when you're strict."

The woman laughed again. "Oh, good Lord!"

"And I think he loves you so much he doesn't see these supposed faults you find in yourself. And you love him very much too, don't you?"

Grace smiled. "I don't think I could love anyone, blasphemous as it is, I don't think I could love even my Lord more than I love him. I find myself happiest when I hear him, safest when I'm in his arms, strongest when I know he's near." The woman paused, eyes falling on a spot in the middle distance. "Maybe he does complete my life somehow. He's certainly made it more interesting. Before him there was routine and duty and everything was the same and I was on a quiet and calm path to old age, then death. This all, despite the things outside our gate, this has been a wonderful bump on that journey to the end." The woman inhaled deeply and nodded. "So, yes, we need more decoration in here. Make it a celebration." She stood up and thanked Michonne, before walking out.

Sitting on the pew, Michonne thought of Grace's words, her mind yearning for that connection, that string that had been cut, separating them. She felt like she had been free floating without that anchor and had just fallen back down to earth.

And there was Milton, quietly working, glasses shoved up into his blond hair, face screwed up in concentration, dimples sweetly making an appearance.

Smiling sadly, she stood up and headed towards him, easing down at his side. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Not now," he said. "But I'll need to do a soundcheck when this is all set up, I'll need someone to stand around and let me know how it reverbs in this church."

Michonne nodded. "Sure." She paused, eyeing his cute dimples and his adorable face, before she leaned in a kissed him chastely on the cheek, scraping her lips on his stubble. It amazed her that such a boyishly cute thing like Milton had stubble, it was like she almost forgot he was actually a man under all that rabbit fluff. "You do good work around here, Milt." She said.

He turned astonished, wide eyes on her. "Thank you."

She smiled and patted his shoulder, before standing up and heading back to her pew to wait until she was needed.

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******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I kind of agree. I think they should be our next solid bromance.  
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******************************************************************************************vickih - Thank you for the bit about Annie's part. I wasn't sure I wanted to include it, but then I thought it'd be a nice change. I actually looked up children's essays and read a few to get a feeling for it. Kids, they sure have no real filters or rhymes to their writing.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - Same. I also wish more Glenn would happen on the show. I miss Glenn. He's such a beautiful, strong, geeky, cutie.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Yes, Rick chapter soon. It's so hard, I want to have a little bit of everyone, but I think some may think it'll drag on. I managed to get some Rick in this one...******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itis3 - Danke.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - To the untrained eye that may be how it seemed, but to covert operatives in foreign countries it was actually a signal that the cheese is in the pocket and it's time to move Aunt Agatha from the freezer. You feel me? I'm just doing my duty here. I'm serving my country. I'm saving lives, man. I'm...okay I was warning people. But some people have delicate sensibilities. They can't handle full Merle like we can.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Oh, Daryl's gift is going to be pretty cool, I hope you'll like it!******************************************************************************************


	7. Shout to the Devil

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**Recovery Journal**

**Friday, July 25, 2014**

Feeling? They want to know how I'm feeling. I'm struggling. I hate this fucking journal, but…struggling.

Sometimes I can't think of the right word for something. I know it's there, but it's gone or…blurred in my head.

I just want to be left alone.

Maybe I should leave?

You reading this Herschel? I'll just fucking pack up and go.

I know you assholes are reading this, analyzing it, going over every bit and…

I helped Milton set up tonight for the Lieutenant's stag party. We're holding a party. End of the world and we have nothing better to do than party.

I'm not going.

I'll put Judith down for the night and get some sleep.

I'm a useless bag of shit, but I'm still here.

Where the fuck is Shane? He got cocky, then he got sloppy and where the fuck is he now?

Ghosts. That's all they are now. Lori, Shane, Dale. Ghosts. Remnants. Echoes of what once was.

Judith is getting big, walking, or trying to. You think she looks like Shane, Hersch? Doesn't matter. I'm the one here.

Guess that would make me the remnant.

Fuck this. I hate this fucking thing.

Herschel, with all due respect, you can shove this journal up St. James' asshole. I know it was his new age, touchy feely brain that came up with it.

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****Carol****

"Are you sure he doesn't want to come down?" She asked, stepping back as the Lieutenant climbed up into the magnolia tree where both Kowalski's had made camp.

"Naw, I'm not having a party without you boys," the Lieutenant said, disappearing into the leaves.

Ryan, who was sitting on one of the stronger branches, quietly chewed on his handful of raisins. "Sonny don't wanna, I remain firm with my baby brother in solidarity."

The tree shook and trembled with three grown men in the branches and Carol stepped back, shielding her eyes from the dying sun. "You should give in," she suggested as Ryan hopped down to avoid being shook from his perch. "He already sent Carl and Tyreese to Delgado's to bring them here. Apparently this is going to be a bigger do than Grace wanted."

"Trust a Cajun to throw a party and invite the whole fucking Parrish," Ryan said with a grin. "Sorry, mind my mouth."

Carol smiled and jumped back a little as Kowalski the younger dropped from the tree, followed by the Lieutenant who was beaming widely.

Gripping Kowalski by the scruff, the Marine frog marched the angry man in the direction of church.

"And I appreciate you knowing that we call them Parrish's down the bayou," the Lieutenant tossed over his shoulder.

Downing the rest of his raisins, Ryan chuckled and nodded in the direction of the church. "Guess we're hanging in solidarity in there. You coming?"

Carol touched a hand to her stomach and shrugged. "I…I don't know."

"Is Grace having something?"

"Like what?" Grace broke in from where she stood right behind them. Seemed she was good at that. "Should I hunt down someone to remove their clothes for our entertainment? Unless you have someone in mind, Mr. Kowalski?"

The handsome Marine blinked his sky blue eyes at her, before smiling almost shyly. "I…I wouldn't know, ma'am." He shifted on his feet. "Unless…you're not…am I…what's going on here?" He asked Carol.

She smiled at the young man's nervous turn and batted her eyelashes. "My," she teased, "you've suddenly become skittish."

The twinkle in Grace's eye let her know the woman was in on the joke as the former nun took a step towards Ryan. "It's only…I would love to throw something for the women of the convent, but I'd need a man who would be willing to help out."

Ryan kept glancing at Carol, expecting the punchline.

Carol remained stone faced and interested.

"No offence, ma'am," Ryan said. "But I think you're barking up the wrong man."

"This is my first and – God willing – only wedding," Grace went on, becoming flustered. "Oh, dear, am I not doing this correctly?"

Biting her bottom lip to contain her laughter, Carol decided to move in for the kill. "It's okay, Grace, maybe next time."

"Sure," Grace said. "Plenty of weddings in one's lifetime."

"Hold on now," Ryan said. "You're fucking with me, pardon, you're screwing with me."

"Why no, Mr. Kowalski," Grace said tilting her head. "I wish I were, but the truth is, how does one go about finding a man who would be willing to entertain a woman on the night before her very first wedding?"

"He'd have to be a kind, good hearted man," Carol added.

Ryan backed up from the women. "You two are beautiful and deadly. Like she-wolves, you'd nurse me back to health, but you'd also gut me and eat my goddamned spleen like a steak. I like that and I respect that. I'll see what I can do for you two."

Carol and Grace exchanged shocked looks behind Ryan's back as he headed after his brother and the Lieutenant.

"I think we stumbled onto an opportunity," Carol said.

Grace smiled shyly. "I wasn't expecting that to end the way it did."

"Well, now…?"

"I guess, now we throw a small gathering for the ladies."

"Complete with stripper?" Carol demanded.

Grace opened her mouth, and then closed it. "Complete with…entertainment. Whatever that may be."

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"Do we have the supplies to spare for a party?" Andrea demanded.

Beside the woman, Sasha shrugged. "I don't care, I want to drink and do girl things for once. I'm sick of rough nails and man sweat."

"I'm going to enjoy being a girl again," Michonne murmured joining them from the outside, Mary Agnes, Mary Claire and Sister Joan with her.

"Are you really going to have one of those men who takes their clothes off, Mother Superior?" Mary Claire asked.

Grace flushed prettily. "I, uh…"

"It was my idea," Carol said. "For the secular women, but only if Ryan can fish us up someone."

"He won't be doing it himself?" Adele asked, joining them from the dining room with Layla and Mrs. Douglas.

"Shame," Sasha sighed. "That man is beautiful."

"Um-hm," Mary Agnes agreed. "I like the way they build them in the Marine Corps."

"Hallelujah," Sister Joan agreed. "Something in the water in Wyoming, I'll tell you."

"Sister!" Mary Claire exclaimed sweetly.

"Mary Claire," Joan began, "you're naïve and sweet, which is why I think you shouldn't come to this party."

"Mother Superior!" Mary Claire pleaded.

Grace smiled gently. "Everyone is welcome, Sister Joan. Though…perhaps it may be a bit…racy for some of you."

"What if Mr. Kowalski gets someone like Cash to strip?" Sasha asked, bumping Layla playfully.

"Ew!" Adele said, apologizing hastily to Layla. "Sorry. It's just…he's such a three day _couyon_."

"Can you even watch strippers, honey?" Mary Agnes asked the woman.

Layla tilted her head in confusion. "What is?"

"They take their clothes off," Michonne explained.

The woman's brown eyes grew wide, before she smiled sheepishly and hid her grin with the end of her hijab. "I think," she began carefully, "is okay."

Everyone laughed with the woman.

"What if he gets Merle?" Andrea pointed out with a grin.

"That man won't," Mary Agnes stated firmly, "if he wants to keep himself in one piece."

"Merle's too smart to fall for that," Carol said. "Ryan will probably trick his poor brother or one of the soldiers into it."

The Lieutenant burst into the packed kitchen, immediately going to the cupboards and looking through them.

"What on earth are you doing tearing up my kitchen like that?" Grace demanded.

"How many snacks feed a literal army of men?" The Cajun asked, he paused, noticing all the women present and turned to them with a grin. "Evening, ladies, what's on the menu for conversation tonight?"

"Strippers," Michonne pointed out.

"For my party?" He asked.

"For mine," Grace said.

The man grinned slyly. "Gracie girl…"

The former nun huffed and waved her hand at him. "The women deserve to have just as much fun as you."

Folding his arms, the Lieutenant rocked back on one foot and barked, "_cabri_! Get in here! We have us a situation!"

Carol beamed as Daryl stepped in from the night shyly, taking note of the crowd of women he was walking into.

"Seems the wimmenfolk," he drawled, mocking the Georgian accent, "are planning to have themselves a barn burner of their own, replete with nude male pulchritude."

Daryl scowled. "So?"

"So, volunteer to strip for them," the Cajun clapped him on the back hard. "Do the right thing, son."

Carol's man turned red as baboon's ass, before pulling away from the Lieutenant's hand. "Fuck no!"

"Come on, take it off for the ladies," the man called after Daryl as the younger Dixon beat earth out of the kitchen.

Holding up his hands, the Cajun beamed. "I tried, magpie."

Grace moved towards him, hands going to his back. "I know, honey. Get out of my kitchen, I'll dig up some snacks for your army and mine."

Digging his heels in, the Lieutenant turned and beamed. "You want me to strip, darling? I don't mind."

"Yes," Mary Claire breathed, blushing shyly when everyone turned to look at her.

Carol smiled gently and rubbed the woman's upper arm.

"Uh," the Lieutenant began, eyeing Grace wickedly, "mmm, mmm, mmm, ow, she's a brick-house…"

"Get out of my kitchen, you wolf and put our girls to bed." Grace shoved in vain as the Marine planted firmly and wriggled his hips.

"Mighty might just lettin' it all hang out. She's a brick-house. The lady's stacked and that's a fact, ain't holding nothing back." He reached for his jacket, undoing the buttons with one hand.

"That's not even an appropriate song for a man, honey," Grace protested. "Stop defiling my—"

"She's a brick-house. She's the one, the only one, who's built like a amazon," he thrust the jacket off and tossed it at Mrs. Douglas nearby, giving the old woman a wink as he did so.

"This used to be a sacred place," Grace stated, face flushed in embarrassment. "Please, just put the girls to bed?"

"We're together everybody knows, and here's how the story goes," the Lieutenant tugged off his shirt and got it halfway off before Daryl returned and yanked the man out the door.

Grace huffed and touched a hand to the base of her throat.

Sweeping in again, the Lieutenant scooped his nun up against him, kissed her breathless, pulled his shirt off, tossed it at Carol with a roguish sparkle in his eye, then left.

Spying a fray in the hem, Carol folded the shirt and planned to mend it in the morning, while Grace struggled to regain her composure in front of the other women.

"Are you really stripping for them, Mrs. Douglas?" Andrea asked suddenly.

The old woman laughed. "I guess I am."

"Mrs. Douglas!" Mary Claire exclaimed.

"Oh, hush! At my age I'm trying to cross things off my bucket list."

"Stripping is on your bucket list?" Mary Agnes asked.

The old woman shrugged. "It's just taking your clothes off. Freeing your inhibitions is healthy, you know?"

"What do you think, Carol," Adele teased. "Want to free your inhibitions?"

Carol laughed. "I think I'll leave my inhibitions in my bra where they belong."

"Who are you kidding, girl," Sasha asked. "I've seen you go free some days."

Blushing furiously, Carol ducked her head.

"I know Daryl's seen it too," Michonne added slyly.

"This from the Queen of No-Undies," Andrea pointed out.

Michonne smiled softly. "Saves laundry."

"This is all good information," Cash said from the dining room doorway.

All the women fell silent, Carol's eyes going to Adele to see her pale at the possibility that her bad omen was about to come true.

"Sorry," he said. "Layla, your boy is after you."

"It's bedtime," Layla explained, excusing herself.

Cash lingered in the doorway, eyeing Michonne with a small, cat-like grin.

"Keep eyeing me like that, little man, and I'll poke one of those wandering eyes out," Michonne said.

"That shouldn't turn me on as much as it just did," Cash stated, ducking as Andrea took a swat at him. Laughing, he left, following in Layla's shadow.

"God must like me," Adele murmured.

Carol laughed. But still, she wondered who Ryan would find for their entertainment. Surely someone would take the challenge up.

"I don't know how Daryl controls himself," Michonne went on. "Carol has fuckable hips."

"Michonne!" Andrea gasped.

"I'm just pointing out a few facts," Michonne shrugged.

"If I were a lesbian I could go for someone like Carol," Adele mused. "Or maybe you, Michonne, I have a thing for curvy asses and thighs."

Carol glanced over at Grace and the nuns to gauge their reaction to such talk and found the other women quietly listening, Mary Agnes wearing a small, knowing smirk.

"Not me," Andrea admitted. "I like willowy women."

"Sid, if this don't end in exploratory and experimental kissing I'm going to cut my balls off at the root."

All the women looked over at the back door to find Delgado and two of his men with him, Gwen, Dolly, Vivian and Eve pushing their way through the men to enter the kitchen.

"Go on," Pace urged the ladies with cheeky grin, pushing his cowboy hat up higher on his forehead.

Delgado hooked Pace around the neck with his arm. "Sorry, ladies, we didn't mean to interrupt the party, we were looking for—"

"In the church, I believe," Grace pointed out, welcoming the women from Delgado's group with a couple of mugs for freshly brewed coffee.

"Actually, you," Delgado said. "To congratulate you on your nuptials."

Grace smiled at the man. "Thank you. I'm glad you could come for this."

"Oh, we're staying for the wedding," Delgado said. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." He nodded at the other women, before tugging Pace off with him.

"Where's the stronger stuff?" Eve asked with a grin.

Sid lingered in the doorway after the other parted, hands in his pockets and sweet, gentle smile on his face, before he nodded to them and said, "you ladies have a good night." He turned and followed after the others, passing Glenn who moved to stand in the doorway, eyes wide and curious.

"Ryan said you all wanted to see me about some dirty work or something?" Glenn said nervously.

The women all burst out laughing at the poor boy.

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******************************************************************************************auntheddy -**** I kind of ship them too. Not going to lie.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Michonne does indeed have a serious thing for the geeky little rabbit. Because he's such a rabbit.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - I always like interesting couples, test the boundaries, see what comes of things.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - I'm hoping to show Michonne as more of a rock. I want her to be steady and sure, someone who could make a good leader or elder of sorts.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Merle will always be Merle as long as there's a breath of life left in this series.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - I almost had a stripping Daryl courtesy of the Lt. Dammit, so close!******************************************************************************************


	8. Fortunate Son - Part I

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**Milton's Historical Logs #94**

**Saturday, July 26, 2014**

Last night was…I feel compelled to log the events but I'm not happy (or proud) about doing so.

The night began like any other party, I suppose (not that I've been to many mind.)

The men were gathered in the church in a herd of excited testosterone, under God's roof doing ungodly things.

The women were huddled in the infirmary with estrogen haunting the air like wisps of a spirits' tattered shroud.

No sane man dared to go to that place at that time.

There was drinking of liquor by those who could and those who didn't (and in Layla's case) those whose religion forbid it, entertained themselves with cold tea and canned fruit juice. But most importantly there was drinking. I repeat myself because this is important to note.

Now, as a man who doesn't indulge much I have to admit that my memory is perhaps the most reliable in recounting the events that unfolded.

First, there was noise. A cacophony the likes of which even the angels heralding the end of days from heaven couldn't reproduce.

The Lieutenant insisted upon karaoke, so of course, there was noise.

There was smoke. Fresh tobacco from Delgado's own crop and dry, musty plumes from the ancient cigarettes found by those who indulged.

Then there was sex. Not in the sense of a grand orgy, the likes of which Caligula himself would endorse, but sex that hung on words and jokes thrown amongst the men like confetti at a parade. They are soldiers and rednecks, these men, and one Marine who descended directly from those old French Kings, who seemed to be the root of sex minded thought and speech. And in the minds of these virile males everything is and was sex.

At times I was thrown into stages of pink cheeked shock by the jokes and comments, having never been around men of such woodshop working, plaid wearing, boot stomping male type. These are like the Brawny Men of the world and all under one roof.

Merle. Merle, that leader of the sex minded men prevailed on all things that night.

At one point I felt as though Merle were the God Bacchus and that the wine and the debauchery were products of his will.

St. James may have supplied some of his deep woods grown, special marijuana for the festivities and I may have inhaled the second hand blue haze which hovered in the air, so perhaps Merle's imposing self was the cause of this firm belief in old Roman God's.

After the drinking. After everyone was in a mellowed mood came Mrs. Douglas. That geriatric temptress with the sienna skin, wrinkled by time and experience, but almost like liquid gold under the light of the candles. She danced like a creature fifty years younger. Like and immortal child of light and fire. She moved like a gypsy.

An old, wrinkled gypsy.

So, there we were. Testosterone high, blood alcohol up there in the solid digits, coming back to life after living among the dead and the ghosts. We needed this release. We needed this night.

Oh God, what have we done?

And some point a fight broke out between Merle and Rhoades.

This was to be expected. Two alpha males high on life, booze and energy, clashing.

And the Lieutenant, he just sat back in his throne-like spot of honour by the pulpit and watched, a small, impish look in his eye. Like he knew. He knew it was to be expected, like in some way he was Puck and he instigated the whole debauchery. Maybe he was. Maybe the Lieutenant was in some small way an earth spirit of mischief and mayhem. Maybe he threw this party to bring us all down.

Maybe I'm still a little high from the pot.

The fight, it lasted maybe five solid minutes of heavy blows and blood and bruises, but when it was over, like all good fights between men, Merle clapped a hand on Rhoades back and offered him a beer. And all was right.

The night was full, it was full to the brim of happenings and things and it all went so fast, so heavy and real, that I can almost still put myself there, in that place. With the smoke and the noise and the vibrancy of the life that electrified those who witnessed the whole ordeal.

Then, like the Queen's they were, the women showed up suddenly, the door to the church was thrown wide and they stood there like Valkyries arriving to drag these warriors off the field of battle, up to the halls of Valhalla.

The noise stopped.

For a moment I thought I had gone deaf. There wasn't a sound. Men rushed to put out their smokes, to adjust themselves for the women as they moved down the aisle of the church, heading for a smirking Cajun on the dais at the front. It was almost as though the man willed it. He looked like he expected nothing less, a knowing twinkle in his eye as the women approached him.

That was when the debauchery went from drunken revelry to a veritable orgy of moving bodies and drinking and I feel like, at one point someone was naked. Or maybe we all were, or maybe it was just the feel of the party as it got out of hand. As people writhed and laughed and danced and sang and drank and stomped and literally tried everything in their power to tear that old structure of the church to the ground with the energy of their bodies.

No one will ever be able to say that this party, this bacchanalia thrown by this single Cajun devil on the night before his wedding to a nun was anything if not epic. And with this record, it will go down in history as the first time, in a long time, we thoroughly lived.

Think I'll go back to bed now. I still feel like I'm walking through a haze.

**Current home population: 39 (Both Kowalski's and O'Hara and his men still present.)**

**Current away population: 0**

**Current forecast: I don't know. It looks too bright out there and there's a wind or something. I'll have a better gauge later when I can stand bright light and moving.**

**Current mood: Tired, a little confused, kind of hungry but I know if I eat it won't stay down long.**

**Addendum: Did I drink last night? There's about eight beer bottles in my bed beside me…I don't even like beer.**

**P.S. to the addendum: Should I be concerned about this condom at the foot of my cot? It appears to be used…it touched my foot and I thought it was a snake.**

**Also addendum: There appears to be bright red paint or something on my pillow…**

**Personal note: I'm sure I conducted myself with a modicum of dignity at the celebration. At least I have that.**

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****Daryl****

"I'm the lizard King!"

Eyeing Milton who was straddling the railing at the front of the pews, Daryl smiled and tucked his cigarette in between his lips to clap for the man as a group of soldiers cheered the man on with chants of 'dance, dance, dance' as he struggled his way through a Doors song, the mike too close to his mouth, the joint Milton held threatening to burn the handle of the microphone as the geeky scientist ground against the rail, riding it like a witch riding a broom.

Beside him Merle touched his bottle to his split lip and grinned. "Some people can't handle their smoke."

Finally it was St. James who rescued Milton, taking over the mike and handing it over to Glenn who finished the song as Milton was helped down from the railing and seated at a nearby pew.

Rhoades, who was suddenly best of buddies with Merle after their scrap nodded in agreement and then stood up to catcall Glenn who hit a high note that was about ten feet off key.

Someone hit the karaoke machine and the CD jumped to 'Baba O'Riley' causing Glenn to falter and fumble, before adjusting himself to the situation and going with it. The poor man had come back from the kitchens at the start of the night, warning everyone not to fucking believe a word Ryan Kowalski said, his face pink with some kind of embarrassment.

Spying Carl in the shadows beside O'Hara and Kowalski the Younger, who both seemed to be exuding a dark cloud of fun-sucking negative energy, Daryl stood up and approached the boy, shouting at him over the din.

"Your dad know you're here?" He demanded.

Carl shrugged. "He's watching the kids tonight in the dorms!"

"I didn't ask where he was, I asked if he—"

"What does it matter?" Carl returned. "I'm not drinking!"

"Yet," Merle stepped in, grabbing the young man and handing him a beer.

At Daryl's disapproving look, his brother shrugged and grinned, proud of himself for corrupting Rick's kid.

With a withering glare, Daryl decided to let it slip, moving back to his spot to find Dean slinking into their pew, a beer in hand.

That seemed to be the one thing Merle did disapprove of, snatching the beer from the kid, handing it off to Daryl in order to flick Dean's earlobe.

"Get back to the dorms!" He barked.

Dean slunk off, but rebelled enough to veer off towards Carl's shadowy corner. Merle seemed to miss Carl handing Dean his beer, but Daryl caught it with a sly look.

As Delgado and Sid started up 'Casey Jones', the Lieutenant flopped onto the pew beside Daryl, vaulting the one in front easily with his long legs in order to get at them. Like a true Southern gentleman he clung hard to a tumbler of bourbon, the good stuff that Daryl gave him in lieu of finding a better bachelor party gift. And just like any good Southern gentleman, the vaulting over the pew didn't at all affect the liquid in the glass. No man wasted a drop.

It seemed to please the Cajun better than anything, so Daryl was satisfied with his find.

"Come on, _cabri_," the Cajun's accent was thicker with drink. "We gon' nex', yeah?"

"Naw," Daryl shook his head. "I don't do that shit."

"F'true?" The Cajun drawled with a glimmer in his eye. "I tink dat's a lie you been tellin'. All night ya been eyein' dat mike like it's da gol' medal ya been wantin' for."

"Naw," Daryl insisted.

"Dere's dis glint in ya eye dat tells me ya lyin'."

"Jesus, you were fucking hard to listen to before," Merle broke in, "now it's like listening to a retarded Frenchman trying to speak English."

"_Embrasse moi tchew, grande beede_."

"Yeah, fuck you too, coonass."

Leaning across Daryl, the Cajun looked Merle straight in the eye and said, "_je vas te passe une callotte. _Ya feel me, _couyon_?"

Without giving him time to respond, the large Cajun had Daryl by the back of his shirt and was frog marching him up the aisle towards the front.

"Speak fucking English I might, dipshit," Merle replied.

"Fuck you, Merle!" The Cajun announced with a grin.

"Fuck you back!" Merle responded gleefully.

Shaking his head in good humour, the Lieutenant murmured. "I'm gonna pass dat man a slap tonight, I feel it."

Delgado and Sid finished their song and Daryl found himself apprehended by the Marine, marched up the aisle and held firmly in place as the Lieutenant picked out a song for them to sing.

The familiar drum beats and pluckings of a guitar started up and Daryl smirked around his cigarette, puffing as the Cajun started.

"Some folks are born, made to wave da flag. Ooo, dere red, white and blue. And when da band plays 'Hail to the Chief'. Ooo, dey point da cannon at ya, Lawd! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no!"

The men began to get riled up, stomping and clapping along.

The mike was thrust at Daryl and for a moment he stood stunned, and then removed his cigarette from his lips, downed a good swallow of beer, finishing off his bottle and taking the mike.

"Some folks are born, silver spoon in hand! Lord, don't they help themselves, y'all! But when the taxman comes to the door! Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yeah! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no, no! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no!"

It was actually alright, considering. No one cared how badly Daryl was singing, and he was sure it was bad. Fay motioned Merle up and the gruff man resisted for a moment, before moving to stand beside them, the three of them bobbing to the music, Fay's arm slinging around Merle's and Daryl's shoulders.

Tucking his cigarette back into his mouth, Daryl belted out around it, singing with Fay and his brother, arm around his waist as the three bobbed and stomped, finishing the song together.

"Some folks inherit star spangled eyes! Ooh, they send you down to war, Lord! And when you ask 'em, 'How much should we give?'! Ooh, they only answer 'More! More! More!', y'all! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no military son, son! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, one! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no, no, no! It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate son, no, no, no!"

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******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Ah yes, the 'who would you go for if you were gay' discussion. I think I've had it too. It's one of the classics.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - We'll see who strips in the next part, I promise. (Sadly it isn't Glenn...)******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - Mine too! I love that song. I like to think the Lt thinks of it when he thinks of Grace. I don't know why, I just do.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************You'reMyKindOfTrouble - I like the idea of Glenn the stripper, he's a total hottie. Also, the Lt is so effing cheeky. I'm amazed he gets away with half of what he does, but I think the more chill and relaxed Grace gets, the more he has to push her to get her ire up.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Poor Glenn, he always seems to be in over his head. He's such a cutie. I don't know why I don't write enough of him.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Because the Glenn striptease had you so hot and bothered you need Merle's cold steel blade to cool you down? Ehehe...*refuses to believe you dislike the idea of Glenn naked*******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - Oh, I haven't forgotten either...it may come into drunken Daryl play later...that purple thing.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itsi3 - Ah, Fay...what a little shit.******************************************************************************************


	9. Fortunate Son - Part II

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****Grace****

"No, I'm not saying we need a leader because I'm trying to put myself in that position," Andrea argued over her glass of wine. "I'm just saying we need to have a clear leader in charge around here to regulate and uphold the laws."

"What laws, Andrea?" Sasha demanded. "We've never had anyone murdered or anything stolen. We all kind of respect each other enough to live and let live."

The women of the convent were spread out across the cots and chairs of the infirmary, comfortable and relaxed, drinking wine and discussing politics and makeup.

Reclined on a hospital bed, leaning against Carol a little drowsily, Grace noted that Andrea's politics seemed to lean more towards uprising and fighting some imaginary oppressor, while everyone else seemed content to just discuss how the world may be beyond their walls. They speculated on how things were run in Delgado's group with all those women and Eve and Dolly set them straight, informing the women of the convent that Delgado was in charge, but that he didn't demand respect, but that he had more than earned it.

"So, Gwen, you've seen Ryan naked, haven't you?" Dolly changed the subject from Andrea's war, to something less intense for the night.

The other women laughed as Gwen almost choked on her wine.

"Sorry?" She demanded.

"Just curious," Dolly replied with a sly grin at Eve. The two women touched fingertips like a mini high five.

Gwen cleared her throat. "I heard honey is good for the skin," she said, pointedly ignoring the two women by turning to Mary Agnes.

"I heard that too," the woman said.

"Wait, wait, wait," Michonne broke in, "I want to go back to that other topic."

Everyone laughed.

"Oh, it's okay, honey," Eve assured the woman. "Just morbid curiosity is all."

"Speaking of men, I'd like to know how Grace the nun ended up with a Cajun devil," Gwen said, still managing to change the subject.

Grace hid a grin in Carol's steel curls.

"You have to imagine this," Mary Agnes broke in with a tricky grin , "the first night that boy showed up, Mother Superior, resplendent in her full habit, takes him into her office—"

"Mother Superior, did you…that first night?" Mary Claire broke in innocently.

Grace gave her a half scolding, affectionate look. "No, I most certainly did not."

"I heard her through the door," Mary Agnes went on.

"Eavesdropped," Grace clarified.

"'You are as mangy as a mutt,' she said," Mary Agnes chuckled. "'For as long as you're in the presence of these good women, you will remain out in that shed and be grateful to the good Lord for it'."

Grace flushed, she remembered every minute of that tense conversation with that strange, tall, scraggly man who had boldly appeared on their wall. The first time she laid eyes on him he was two weeks deep into a beard, his eyes were dark from lack of rest, his cheeks hollow from lack of nourishment. He looked feral. But the smile he had given her, that first grin of his, it was the one that melted her cold heart a little. He looked so relieved to see people, to find others.

"You've come a long way from there to here, Grace," Mary Agnes finished with a gentle smile.

"We've all come a long way," Grace said, deflecting the attention from herself, not used to being the belle of the ball. "When you think of it, we've come so far in such a short amount of time. It's barely even been a year and look at us."

"Don't change the subject, Mother Superior," Sister Joan broke in. "We're talking about you and the Lieutenant and how you pushed him so far away. To be honest, I'm amazed you ended up here."

"It doesn't bother us, though," Mary Claire said with an encouraging smile. "I think we're all really happy for you."

"You made a good decision," Joan added. "The Lieutenant may not be conventional, but he's a good man."

"You'll always be our Mother Superior," Mary Agnes agreed.

Reaching across the void from the bed to where Mary Claire sat in a chair nearby, Grace gripped the younger woman's hand and smiled.

"You've all been such strong women during all of this," Grace said. "I'm very proud to have been at the head of you. I only wish the others had made it this far. I wish we hadn't lost them."

"Well, if Sister Gertrude were still alive she'd most likely tie herself to the doors of that church in order to stop the wedding," Mary Agnes said. "You know how traditional she was."

Grace laughed and explained to Carol and the others, "when the Lieutenant first arrived, Sister Gertrude wanted to throw him right back over that wall. If you can imagine, this tiny, frail old nun, forcing that Cajun boy right back against the wall and eyeing him down like she wanted to set him on fire with a look."

"Mm, the way that man looks at you though," Eve broke in.

Everyone looked over at her.

"We need more romance over at the farm," Dolly said wistfully, eyeing her quiet daughter.

Vivian flushed prettily and sipped at her wine.

"We need more romance here," Andrea said. "I mean Carol and Daryl, the Lieutenant and Grace, where's my slab of man meat?"

"Merle and Mary Agnes," Mary Claire chirped.

The nun cleared her throat and offered the younger nun a warning look.

"What? You don't think we didn't notice how sweet he's become on you."

"Merle is not sweet," Mary Agnes stated coolly. "And that is none of—"

"You know he was going around bragging about it, right?" Michonne pointed out. "That snake."

Mary Agnes quirked a brow and took a sip of wine. "Good. I wouldn't want him any other way. You all can have your mice and house cats, I'll take that snake and thank the good Lord for him."

"There's more to Merle than he lets on," Carol defended her brother-in-law gently. "Lately he's proven that."

"Thank you, Carol," Mary Agnes said.

"Now, I'm curious, Mary Agnes," Sasha said. "Is Daryl a mouse or a house cat?"

"Oh, that boy? No, he's a sheepdog."

"You have no idea how much of a struggle it is to get him to sit still for a haircut," Carol said apologetically. "How come the Lieutenant is always so well groomed, that's what I'd like to know," she turned to Grace.

"That man _is_ a house cat," Grace said with a roguish twinkle in her eye. "He preens more than I do."

"But it pays off," Andrea pointed out. "I wonder how Daryl cleans up?"

"Think he'll shave and get a haircut for the wedding?" Adele asked Carol.

The woman laughed. "No. I couldn't even convince him to wear a tie for it."

"Could you imagine that boy in a suit and tie?" Eve demanded. "I bet he's the cutest thing!"

"The sad thing is," Carol began. "He'd only ever wear a suit and tie if the Lieutenant asked him. He wouldn't for me."

"Aw, that's not true," Mary Claire tried to appease her.

"No, it is." Adele argued. "Those two have a weird relationship."

Grace laughed. "Oh, Lord, it's true! They're eerily close some days."

"I swear, sometimes I think they'd make the cutest couple," Dolly pointed out, before back-tracking quickly. "Not that I've dwelt on the idea or anything! But…they are adorable together."

"Speaking of men and relationships," Eve began, "did you know Delgado and Pace have a sort of thing going on?"

"Oh, shut up!" Dolly argued. "You overhear one compliment from Delgado to Pace and suddenly those two are hooking up!"

Everyone stopped when someone pounded on the door. They all looked amongst themselves, wine glasses held still in their hands.

"Ladies! Open up!" Someone shouted from the other side. "We have a situation!"

Adele was first to the door, being the closest, she cracked it carefully.

From her place on the bed, Grace tried to see what was going on.

Stepping aside, Adele let both Kowalski brothers in, Ryan was beaming widely and holding a battery powered stereo.

"Ladies, I'm so sorry," Ryan explained as he handed the stereo off to his brother. "I tried really hard to find someone to take it all off for you. I really did. But I was beginning to feel dirty, like some kind of p…anyways, we have a problem here—"

"Mister Kowalski, you really didn't have to, Carol and I were jok—" Grace was cut off, by the oldest Kowalski.

"We have a problem here…I'm wearing too many clothes for the occasion!" Ryan Kowalski tore his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside to everyone's shock.

He paused, suddenly and turned to his brother who was fumbling with setting the stereo up.

"That was…" Ryan stopped and stomped on the floor to get his brother's attention. "Hey! Cue!"

Kowalski scowled at his brother and pointed to his ear.

"Yeah, I know you're deaf, just…just fucking hit the button! No, the…fucking play! Play button!" He signed to his brother.

Kowalski frowned and pressed play.

"No, track…the other…" Ryan huffed and made another sign.

Grace flushed and got to her feet quickly. "You really, please, just…you don't have to do this, it was a joke."

Kowalski hit the forward button and Ryan turned to her with a grin as Life in the Fast Lane began playing, grabbing the waistband of his pants and jerking his hips in her direction.

"Oh Lord!" Grace exclaimed, scurrying back to the bed to huddle with Carol, who was laughing hard and not at all helping her or the situation.

The women catcalled and went into a frenzy, while Grace tried to bury herself deep under the blankets and covers of the bed, her face burning with embarrassment as she pressed it against Carol's thigh under the blankets.

"Oh Lord, this is so embarrassing, is he still—"

"Yes, he's still stripping," Carol said, watching the show. "I think this might turn into a bare all sort of show."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry for playing that joke on him now."

"He seems happy enough," Carol replied. "Eve and Dolly are dancing with him now, the others look happy."

Cautiously, Grace peeked out from her blanket fort and found her girls were clapping and laughing along with the others, she winced. Lord have mercy on her for this.

Noticing a tattoo on Ryan's back, she tilted her head and tried to read it.

The man caught her looking and beaming, made his way over.

She ducked back under the blankets and gripped Carol tight. This was more stressful than being shot at. She instantly regretted a lot of things, but this was one of her biggest.

Well, at least the others seemed to be having fun.

Carefully, she peered out again and found Ryan was distracted by dancing with Mary Agnes, the two laughing and leaving no space for the Holy Ghost.

Ryan dipped the nun and the two laughed as he swung her back up and against him.

Grace smiled along with them, enjoying their joy. As long as the man kept over there with the others, she'd be fine.

Maybe it was too much to pray to God to keep the man occupied over there?

Ryan's baby brother almost shyly approached their bed and stood there for a moment, before offering her his hand, eyes on his boots.

Grace glanced over at Carol, who smiled and nudged her.

"Go on," she urged.

Deciding that refusing a shy boy like Kowalski's offer for a dance would be too cruel, Grace took his hand and let him help her up from the bed.

He was either a very progressive, modern dancer or really, really bad, but she didn't care, the poor boy was trying, and not being able to hear the music, he couldn't keep the beat and ended up sort of bobbing and weaving. So she bobbed and weaved with him, laughing as he offered her a shy grin.

Grace noticed Ryan's pants were off and she flushed.

His brother smoothly moved into her line of vision, politely interrupting the sight and distracting her with a better version of the dance, Kowalski even opened his over jacket to better block the image from her.

She gave him a grateful kiss on the cheek and they kept dancing.

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******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - All will be revealed. The night isn't over yet.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Congratulations on the niece! ^_^ I'm so happy for you! I hope both mother and baby are resting happily!******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************vickih - I'm basing drunk, happy Daryl on Daryl at the CDC. I imagine if they had karaoke and a pushy Cajun, he would have sung then too. ^_^******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Some people just really cannot handle their substances.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - A boy? Have you seen half naked Glenn? But yeah, Merle is totally all gruff and rugged and manly.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************You'reMyKindOfTrouble - Milton really is a pompous nerd. I love him so much though. I miss the hell out of him on the show.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************auntheddy - Have I answered your question about who stripped in a pleasing manner?******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itsi3 - I love the guys being guys too. I really need more of the guys just dude-ing it up all over the place.******************************************************************************************


	10. Fortunate Son - Part III

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****The Lieutenant****

The church was absolutely still.

Soldiers were rushing to put out their cigarettes and wave the smoke away as the entire group of women slipped in through the main doors, following Grace and Carol who headed them.

Halfway through 'Mississippi Queen' with Merle, the Lieutenant let the music run, mike in hand, watching as the women approached the dais. He considered hiding the tumbler of bourbon in his hand, but it was too late, Gracie's eyes were on him. Sharp and cutting in the dim light of the church as she paused by a soldier who stood in the aisle enough to hinder their approach.

The young man backed away almost reverently, apologizing softly as he bumped into a friend behind him.

His girl ascended the dais calmly, eyeing everyone as she turned to face the group of men, watching as the women settled themselves amongst the pews.

Merle ducked and took to a pew in the front as Gracie quietly fingered her way through the karaoke selection.

Lafayette cleared his throat, about to say something to break the tension, Mountain still playing.

Were they in trouble? Was it the stripping? Or the drinking? Or everything?

Christ he was sobered up fast and terrified.

"Is this what you boys are up to in my church?" Gracie asked still going through the catalogue of songs, her sweet dulcet tone carrying over the music, strong and beautiful as an angel's.

"Yes, ma'am," Tyreese supplied from where he was operating the machine.

Reaching over, the woman gripped his chin and squeezed it lovingly, before pointing to a song in the list.

"Yes, ma'am," Tyreese said with a grin.

Stepping up to the Lieutenant, his girl grabbed the mike and put it back into the stand with a small grin as the music started.

"This is a party, isn't it?" She spoke into the mike, before hitting her cue a little shyly. "We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. We've been talking about Jackson."

The Lieutenant missed his cue, eyeing his girl with appreciative eyes. She looked so beautiful in the dim light, a roguish glint in her eye, a pink flush to her cheek. He blinked, recovering himself, "I'm going to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around. Yeah, I'm going to Jackson, look out Jackson-town."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her in close against him, beaming down at her wolfishly, ignoring the audience, wanting to smother her in kisses and maybe take her right there in the church.

She pushed against his chest with a mildly scolding look. "Well, go on down to Jackson, go ahead and wreck your health. Go play your hand you big talking man, make a big fool of yourself. You're going to Jackson, go comb your hair."

"Honey, I'm gonna snowball Jackson-"

"-see if I care!" She finally got free and laughed softly.

"When I breeze into that city, people gonna stoop and bow. All 'em women gonna make me teach 'em what dey don't know how," he grabbed her again and dipped her gently back. He didn't give a good goddamn about the people watching, he was so aroused by the sight of her, pretty as a magnolia blossom and just as sweet. "I'm going to Jackson, ya turn loose of my coat. Cuz I'm going to Jackson."

She laughed. "Goodbye, that's all she wrote."

He bent down and kissed her.

They missed a few lines as she returned the kiss, still bent a little backwards in a dip. He didn't care a bit if she was a little hard on him sometimes, the sweet, soft woman she was deep down was all he loved and all he needed. She was definitely the only woman he wanted at his side in life.

She broke the kiss with a darling little flustered sound, breaking out of his arms and returning to the mike.

"They'll lead you around town like a scalded hound, with your tail tucked between your legs. You're going to Jackson, you big talking man. And I'll be waiting in Jackson, behind my Japan fan." She continued a little shakier as the audience of party goers, both male and female, whistled and roared.

Rescuing her a little, he swooped in louder, causing her to match his volume, her delicate feminine alto ringing alongside his baritone.

"We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. We've been talking about Jackson, ever since the fire went out. We're going to Jackson, and that's a fact. Yeah, we're going to Jackson, ain't never coming back."

In a hailstorm of applause, the Lieutenant downed the rest of his bourbon, tossed the glass at Rhoades, scooped up his girl and absconded with her back to their pew, settling her in his lap when they got there and beaming at Daryl who sat close to his own lady, clapping sarcastically.

"Let's see ya two do better, _cabri_," Fay taunted.

"Daryl doesn't sing," Carol said.

Fay tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.

The woman turned to her man. "Were you singing?"

"Fuck no," Daryl growled, sipping at his beer.

"Bullshit!" Merle shouted from nearby, causing Daryl to flush.

"Who said we came here to do silly duets with you men all night?" Grace demanded. "As I recall, we came here because with all this yowling, Carol and I thought you'd bring every wild, feral cat down upon our convent like a horde of fierce Huns." The woman held her hand out to Carol who took it with a cheeky grin and headed over to where Michonne and Andrea were gearing up to pick out some songs to sing.

Watching his girl parade off, Lafayette beamed at Daryl. "Dat woman does unholy t'ings to me."

"In a church yet," Daryl murmured into his bottle.

"Ya can't tell me Carol doesn't make ya want to take her home and let her wear ya out."

Daryl chuckled. "Jesus, she has been."

"Oh, dat's right," the Lieutenant teased. "Ya give her dat purple _chouchoot_ yet?"

The bright flush on the youngest Dixon's face told him that the answer was 'no'.

"Yeah, dat's about right. Want me to tell her?"

The man glowered at him, causing Lafayette to laugh.

"You're a fucking lunatic," Daryl snarled.

"I'm getting married tomorrow," the Lieutenant confided. "Tonight, I'm going howl at da moon!"

"You're drunk, dipshit, just calm down," Daryl warned.

"Hell, right! I'm gonna be drunker in about three seconds too," the Cajun looked around. "Where da hell did I put my glass?"

"You threw it at Rhoades."

The Lieutenant laughed and reached for his bottle, squirreled safely away under the pew. "Did I? Jesus, did I peg de po' bastard?"

"Who cares?" Daryl demanded of his beer. "Merle already scrambled his face, another bruise won't make him any prettier."

Taking a sip of bourbon from the bottle, Fay sniffed and nudged Daryl. "Hey."

"What?"

"Tell you what," the Lieutenant began, "take Carol to bed early tonight, give her dat _chouchoot_ and den give yo' _petit bibitte_ a rest, yeah?"

"My what?"

Noticing Grace heading for the door, casting a come hither look over her shoulder at him, Fay stood up with his bottle in hand. "Yo' ah…whatever, _cabri_. Look, cut that hair mop fo' my weddin', yeah? See ya in da the mawnin'."

He split out quickly, on the heels of his girl, striking out the door and into the cool night air.

Stumbling in the dark on his piss drunk legs, he bumped against the railing of the stile, before fumbling his way down the steps in search of Grace. Staggering to his knees a little, he laughed and found one of Grace's little black boots under his nose. He picked it up and looked about for the woman, struggling to his feet, boot in hand, bottle forgotten on the grass.

Ahead of him his girl was toeing off her other boot, leaving it behind in the dewy night grass and walking bare foot through the grass, heading for her beloved peach tree.

She paused, waiting for him under the tree, back against the trunk, eyes shining playfully.

Oh, he liked that look in her eye, it meant trouble of the right kind.

"You looking for me, honey?" She purred.

He beamed, collapsing against the trunk, hand out to steady himself. "I'm a bit drunk, dawlin'."

"I see that." She returned. "Are you at least having fun?"

"I could be havin' a whole lot mo' fun, girl," he drawled, moving in close enough to nuzzle her with his nose.

She remained still, hands resting behind her against the trunk, ass on top of them, little tummy that had only just begun to show thrust out a little proudly.

He swayed back a little, before sinking onto his ass in the dewy grass. "I gotta cop a squat fo' I fall down," he groaned.

She beamed down at him, before brushing her hands off on the front of her thighs and joining him on the ground.

Fay pulled her in close, _close_ close and pressed his nose in among her dark hair.

"I 'member," he murmured, curling a lock around his finger clumsily, "when dis hair was short and cropped like a boy's."

"I prefer the term pixie cut," she argued. "And it was because of the habit, honey. Mind your hands!" She exclaimed as he reached for her breast with a roguish grin.

He chuckled and pulled her into his lap, his hands moving to her bare feet.

"So, how does this work, magpie?" He asked. "Tomorrow? Ya take my name? Hm? Become a Vancoughnett?"

She smiled. "I'm a traditionalist, honey, so yes."

"Mm," he mumbled into her hair, kissing the top of her head, then her temple. "Mais, dere's one t'ing you need to know about bein' a Vancoughnett," he said.

"Oh?"

"First, ya always name yo' boychil' Lafayette, otherwise ya bring down bad _gris-gris_ on da house Vancoughnett."

She smiled.

"Second, as a Vancoughnett woman, ya always gotta give da the worl' hell, yeah?"

"Don't I do that anyways, Fayette?" She teased, wriggling in his lap, digging her free foot into the cold grass.

He gripped her gently, but firmly, growling in her ear, "third, ya should probably not do that right now less ya want dis boy fired up fo' bed."

She grinned wickedly at him, before pressing back hard and squirming against his hips with her pretty little Georgian peach ass.

"I see," he muttered, "I get what yo' after now."

Bringing his hands up from her foot, he wriggled his fingers against her ribs, causing her to gasp and jerk away. He continued his torment, following her as she flopped back onto the grass, giggling and squirming.

"Naw, ya gotta deal with the repercussions of yo' actions, girl!" He scolded, brushing his fingers across her neck and behind her ears. "Grindin' all up on me like some hellcat all geared up fo' trouble!"

She flopped and squealed, getting good and wet all down her backside from the grass.

Finally he stopped, laying his head down on her thigh gingerly, his large hand moving to touch her stomach, a cat-like smile curling the corners of his lips, as she stared up at the stars overhead.

"I love ya, Gracie-girl," he whispered, seconds from passing out.

She brushed her fingers through his hair. "I love you too, darling."

"I gave Daryl a purple dick for Carol," the Lieutenant murmured against her thigh.

"What?"

"Nothin'. Sing to me, yeah?"

She was quiet for a minute. "Any song?"

"Mmm, just love yo' voice, dawlin'."

"Saturday night and the moon is out, I wanna head on over to the twist and shout. Find a two-step partner and a Cajun beat, when it lifts me up, I'm gonna find my feet. Out in the middle of a big dance floor, when I hear that fiddle I wanna beg for more. I wanna dance to a band from Louisiana tonight," she crooned, hand tweaking and plucking gently at his hair.

He smiled lazily against her thigh. "I like that song."

They lay there for a few more minutes, Grace singing to him, before the Lieutenant quietly fell asleep, one hand wrapped around her leg, the other resting over her stomach, his plans for doing sinful things to her changed by the drowsiness that over took him in her presence.

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******************************************************************************************vickih - I like to think Mary Agnes genuinely loves Merle.  
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******************************************************************************************Guest AKA auntheddy - Dude, you gotta check your log in status. ^_^******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I could use the paycheck. Believe me. This whole learning to better myself isn't the party hangout I thought it would be.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Yazzy x - I like to think that Grace is all brass and brash, but she's still that virginal Catholic girl deep down.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Something about those gruff, manly types.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - I'm glad they're both doing good. And yes, Kowalski is a grumpy, tree-loving sweetheart.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - I like to think Daryl would surprise her as well. He'd definitely do anything for her, she just doesn't really think it.******************************************************************************************


	11. Fortunate Son - Part IV

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****Glenn****

"I like your hair!" He shouted over the noise of the party.

Vivian smiled broadly and shyly tucked her shortly cropped hair behind her ear. "Thank you! It angered my mom, so I guess that's why I did it!"

He beamed. "I think it's very pretty!"

"I'm Vivian!" She shouted back, leaning in towards him a little.

"I know!" He returned. "I'm Glenn! Rhee!" He added after a second.

"I know!"

He flushed a little. "Wanna dance?"

"Okay, but if my mom sees us, I'm going to split, okay?" She hollered.

He tilted his head in confusion.

"It's just, if she sees me dancing with you, she'll get ideas!" Vivian explained. "She's always trying to hook me up with someone!"

This threw Glenn for a bit of a loop and he paused, furrowing his brow.

"She wants grandchildren!"

"Oh!"

"Just warning you!"

Vivian took his hand and pulled him into the open area where a few pews had been shoved aside to make room for a dancefloor.

He had barely had time to get a few steps in, when Merle accosted him.

"Where's that goddamned Cajun?" Merle barked. "He owes me a bottle of beer for losing the bet!"

Glenn eyed the man for a second in mild fear. "What?"

Merle motioned to where Milton was dancing sandwiched between Michonne and Andrea. "That brainiac is about to get laid."

"What?" Glenn demanded again.

Merle shoved him with a scowl and wandered off through the crowd.

"Sing, sing, sing!" The crowd chanted as Sergeant Fredricks corralled Major O'Hara without touching him up to the mic as the song ended and one of the soldiers stepped down.

Standing awkwardly before Vivian, Glenn offered her a shy smile. "Um, another dance?" They didn't really get to dance at all, so he thought he'd offer again.

"Sure."

The Major shook his head and tried to escape, but Fredricks kept him trapped by the mic with his open arms.

With the soldiers getting rowdy and chanting, their leader sighed into the mic and said, "if I sing will you all calm down?"

The men roared and stomped.

"Alright, calm down, men!" Major O'Hara commanded sternly, sobering up a few of the fainter hearted soldiers. "I'm going to disappoint you and sing a love song, because I'm disgusted by your drunken behaviour, you reprobates."

"Take it all off, Major!" One of the soldiers catcalled playfully.

"That's a warning, Carter!" O'Hara snarled, pointing at the man. "If I do this, everyone has to get up and dance. Everyone find a partner. Carter, you partner up with Malloy for that 'stripping' crack."

From where he stood, Glenn could see the mirth hidden in the Major's eyes, even though his face read professional as the soldier in question went white and glanced at another soldier beside him.

As the soldier went to speak to Tyreese who was still manning the karaoke machine, Glenn's eyes swept from Vivian who was smiling sweetly at him, over the crowd, finding Carol and Daryl sitting in a pew, talking with Sasha and Rhoades. Cash was laughing with a group of soldiers, Layla sitting perched beside him, leaning in to hear over the din, Adele at her side, smiling at the Major's teasing of his men.

"I'm going to try this acapella," the Major explained almost shyly. "Here's an old Irish song my Nana used to sing to me before she died."

Fredricks moved close to Tyreese and whispered something to the man.

Tyreese smiled and nodded.

"The pale moon was rising above the green mountains," the Major began softly in a surprisingly fine, clear tenor, "the sun was declining beneath the blue sea. When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain, that stands in the beautiful Vale of Tralee."

Glenn moved in close to Vivian to dance, as the beginnings of some heavy metal music began. They stepped apart in confusion.

Tyreese shrugged at Major O'Hara's curious glance and pointed to Fredricks who was laughing.

Stepping back from the mic, O'Hara chuckled and nodded. "You think I don't know this one, smart ass?" He asked his second-in-command.

Confused, Glenn glanced around to find a few people catching on to the song, most of the soldiers jumping up from their pews to applaud and cheer on their leader.

Grabbing the mic, O'Hara swooped in on cue.

"As I was goin' over the Cork and Kerry mountains I saw Captain Farrell and his money he was countin'. I first produced my pistol and then produced my rapier. I said stand and deliver or the devil he may take ya!"

Unsure how to dance to the song, Glenn looked back at Vivian, but she was busy sliding in close to him, hip to hip, and grinding against him a little. Shocked, but not altogether displeased, he grinned nervously and tried to keep up with the woman. She wasn't as shy as he thought. Maybe just around her mother?

"I took all of his money and it was a pretty penny. I took all of his money, yeah! and I brought it home to Molly. She swore that she'd love me, no never would she leave me. But the devil take that woman, yeah! for you know she tricked me easy!"

The dancefloor exploded with people suddenly and Glenn was pushed in close to Vivian.

"Musha ring dum a doo dum a da! Whack for my daddy-o! Whack for my daddy-o! There's whiskey in the jar-o!" Everyone chanted loudly, Vivian included.

Shocked by the woman, Glenn could only gawp and flounder almost helplessly as people pressed in even closer.

Daryl, who was nearby with Carol stepped back with her to keep from the celebrating mass and Glenn contemplated getting the pregnant woman out of the church as it seemed like everyone was ready to tear the place apart in their excited frenzy. Seemed Daryl had the same idea, as he whispered something to her and they both left.

"Being drunk and weary I went to Molly's chamber. Takin' my money with me and I never knew the danger. For about six or maybe seven, in walked Captain Farrell. I jumped up, fired off my pistols and I shot him with both barrels!"

For a man who was all duty, the Major seemed to be a rock star at the mic and Glenn began to thoroughly enjoy the show. Or maybe it was the energy of a group of rough, road weary soldiers and struggling survivors who finally had a chance to enjoy themselves that sparked electricity across the atmosphere of the church. He joined in the chanting with a nervous grin, almost expecting things to go bad. Having trouble comprehending that they might actually have a chance to really have fun and let loose.

"Now some men like the fishin' and some men like the fowlin'. And some men like ta hear, ta hear the cannon ball a roarin'! Me, I like sleepin', especially in my Molly's chamber. But here I am in prison, here I am with a ball and chain, yeah!"

As the song ended, Vivian leaned in close to Glenn and said, "want to get out of here?"

He blinked at her, trying to decipher her meaning.

She smiled almost coyly and motioned to the door with her head.

Glenn allowed her to lead him to the door.

"I should slap you all with a 1059," O'Hara grumbled into the mic as Glenn was lead out the door.

Outside, Vivian spun around and kissed him boldly.

Glenn struggled for a moment to comprehend just what was happening, before he tentatively kissed her back. He pulled away after a second and winced.

"Sorry, I…just…"

She blushed furiously. "No, I'm sorry, I…it's been a while."

"No," he fought for a way to explain it to her.

She looked so pretty standing before him, nervous and so sweet looking.

Glenn swallowed thickly, before taking a step towards her, hand moving to her chin. Tilting her face up, he softly kissed her lips.

Vivian eagerly kissed him back.

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They stumbled into the wolves den, fumbling and struggling to keep upright.

Glenn slammed hard into a nearby shelf and cursed as his elbow struck the edge.

Vivian pulled back. "Sorry."

He shook his head, about to say something, but the woman pounced again and knocked them back onto Milton's bed.

Swimming among his multitude of pillows and sheets and blankets, Glenn tried to locate the woman, but she found him, mouth crashing against his, her teeth bruising his bottom lip, her thighs squeezing his hip as she straddled him.

"Jesus," he mumbled into the kiss.

"Sorry," she flushed, pulling away a little, "it's been awhile."

"Yeah," he said. "I can kind of tell."

She glanced around them. "Is this your bed?"

"No," he said. "It's Milton's."

Vivian beamed impishly and shed her shirt. "Think he'll mind?"

Glenn swallowed thickly. For an instant he thought of Maggie. Was it appropriate? It seemed like only yesterday she…she was gone.

"Are you okay?" Vivian asked, pulling him back to the present.

His eyes took in her deep, chocolate eyes with the flecks of caramel blossoming out around her pupils, how open and friendly her face was and he realized that he was. He was okay. Maggie would always be there in his head and in his heart, but she was a ghost, she had lived, but she wasn't real anymore. He would always honour her, but he couldn't linger in the past with her. He needed to move on.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine."

Vivian dropped down to kiss him softly, hands cradling his face.

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They were lying in Milton's bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the Georgian night, when Vivian pushed up onto her elbow to lean over him.

"You know what I find strange?" She whispered, politely waiting for him to ask 'what' before going on. "This is the new normal. We've grown accustomed to it all. I don't even blink now when I see one of the dead just walking around."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"It's not just because you're Asian," she said, flopping back down to lay beside him.

"What?" He was confused.

"That I picked you. It isn't because you're Asian and I'm Asian." She giggled. "The truth is, we have our choice of men on the farm, but Sid still isn't over his wife, Delgado is gay, Charon and Mr. Hollander are too old, I'm fairly sure Pace is hidden deep in the closet and Carter is only fifteen. My only options were both Kowalski's and Ryan is with Gwen, I think," she frowned, "and his brother is…well he never leaves his tree when he's at home."

"So why me?" Glenn asked.

Vivian smiled. "Because you're sweet. I like sweet boys."

Glenn smiled shyly.

Laying her head against his chest, Vivian sighed. "I'd watch you walk around here, just generally being nice and helping others and you didn't seem to get the recognition you deserved. I thought to myself, that's the one I want."

"Really? Me?" Glenn asked.

She smiled up at him. "Yeah. You don't think that's too forward, do you?"

"No."

"My mom…she's very forward, I…can I tell you a secret?" Vivian whispered.

"What?"

"She used to be a stripper, that's how she put herself through college."

Glenn laughed. "Dolly? Really?"

"Yeah. It's why she's able to just put herself out there. Sometimes it's embarrassing."

"Did you ever…like, have a boyfriend?"

She shrugged. "A few. Mom came on a little strong with the marriage thing and scared a lot of them off."

"I'm not easily scared," he admitted with a small grin.

She beamed at him. "I bet you aren't."

They both jumped as the door banged open and Merle stepped in, half dragging Milton, who was clinging hard to a bottle of Jack, his face painted with what looked like red lipstick.

Scrambling to get out of the man's bed, ignoring Merle's taunting laughing, Glenn flushed and guided Vivian to his cot as Merle dropped Milton onto his bed and took the bottle, downing what was left.

"Go to bed, Lizard King," Merle teased Milton, who was already curling up in a fetal position.

"Is he okay?" Glenn asked.

Merle shrugged. "Poor little asshole can't handle a Cajun party."

"What happened to his face?" Vivian asked, Milton's sheets wrapped around her.

"He passed out and a few of the boys decided to make him pretty for his hangover," Merle said, heading for the door, adding on his way out, "by the way, I can still see your tits, girl."

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******************************************************************************************auntheddy -**** This has nothing much to do with anything, but I feel I need to point out that you're a wonderful human being and I adore you. ^_^  
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******************************************************************************************vickih - I can assure you, the next chapter is Caryl. It's been a long time coming, but hopefully it'll satisfy.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - I kind of enjoy them as well. They've sort of become their own entity and it's horrifying how I never intended for that.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - One more chapter of stag party good times, then wedding.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Who? Me personally? I guess if you command I must deliver...now I'm off to buy a purple dick! [Exit pursued by bear.]******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************itsi3 - You're awesome! ^_^ No, but seriously. You're a beautiful person.******************************************************************************************

******************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - Next chapter is Caryl goodness, I promise! Thanks for your patience. ^_^******************************************************************************************


	12. Fortunate Son - Part V

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****Daryl****

The party was swinging into a high gear that had that young, rebellious man inside him rattling the bars of his cage and screaming 'fuck yeah' but also had the responsible daddy-to-be in him shrinking back with a mild scowl thinking 'well, this isn't safe for Carol to be in these crowds'.

Fuck. He could practically feel those khaki chinos and button ups (with sleeves) creeping up on him.

The old man won out in the end and he guided Carol from the party with her eager approval and lead her out into the night air.

They passed by Dean who was hurling boots into the bushes, Carl at his side quietly and Carol paused to scold the boy, but she hesitated when they spied Mary Agnes on the boy's ass, hurrying from the church like her sole purpose in life was to smack some sense into the boy.

Exchanging looks, they continued on, heading for the dorms and their temporary bed, but stopped when someone called out to them.

Glancing around the darkness, they found Grace struggling under the peach tree with a large heap of Cajun Marine.

"Need help?" Daryl asked as they approached.

Grace huffed and dropped Fay's arm. "If you don't mind, I think he's – pardon my language - foxed?"

Carol laughed as Daryl eyed the Cajun, looking for the best way to haul his ass inside. He honestly had no clue how he'd get the sequoia of a man into the dorms, but figured if he could haul a buck back to the convent to field dress it, he could get the Cajun inside.

Though he'd leave the skinning of the man to Grace.

Getting Fay draped over his shoulders, he half dragged, half carried the man towards the dorms, the women falling in behind, each taking a leg.

"I'm sorry," Grace huffed quietly so as not to wake those sleeping as they got inside the dorms. "I would have let the fool boy sleep out there, but the night is cold and the grass is dewy."

They nearly dropped him angling Fay into their shared room, but Daryl managed to wedge him against the doorframe enough to prevent total tragedy, getting the Cajun to the bed and flopping him half onto it, his long, spider legs still hanging over the edge.

Standing there, Daryl scratched at his scruffy chin and shrugged. "Well, at least he didn't do anything stupid before dropping."

Grace smiled at them. "Thank you. Think he'll be okay there for the night? I want to go back and ensure those heathens in my church aren't tearing it apart."

Kicking Fay's boot, Daryl said, "he'll be out for the night now."

"I just hope he wakes in time for the ceremony in the morning," Grace added one last time, before turning and flouncing out.

Carol smiled at him and pulled Fay's legs up onto the bed, tucking the man in lovingly as Daryl settled into their nest on the floor, pulling his boots off and removing his belt.

His girl joined him after a moment, smiling seductively and wriggling to get comfortable before him, kneeling so that her fat stomach jutted out proudly.

"Long night," she purred.

"Even longer one tomorrow," he murmured.

Slipping her arms around his neck, Carol kissed him slowly, wriggling in even closer.

He glanced nervously over at Fay passed out on the bed.

Carol followed his gaze and smirked. "He's out cold."

"Be a hell of a thing if he woke though," he said.

She beamed wickedly at him. "Would it? Let's find out."

He swallowed thickly. "What?"

Throwing her head back, revealing the long, slender line of her throat, his girl laughed and moved to straddle him properly.

Wincing at the bruises she was bumping from their constant interludes, he glanced over at his pack where that thing Fay gave him was buried among his underpants and meagre belongings.

"What if Grace comes back?" He asked.

"What if the ceiling crashes in on our heads and a bunch of birds flying overhead find out how humans mate?" She teased, playing with his scruff.

He glanced up at the ceiling overhead out of instinct to see what she was referring to.

Carol muffled her laughter in his shoulder.

He reached for his pack while she was distracted and pulled it in close, contemplating actually offering her the thing. A thought struck him that it felt weird giving the thing to her, since it originally came from Fay.

Did that make it a sex toy gift from the Cajun to his girl?

He had to ponder that one a bit, but there was no time as Carol was kissing and nipping at his neck in that cat-like mildly frightening, mostly arousing way she did and he dropped his head back far enough to let her continue, his hand releasing his pack to move to her ass, helping himself to a heaping handful with a small squeeze.

Again he glanced over at Fay on the bed nearby and it pulled him back to his senses. Gently he pushed Carol away and cleared his throat. "No, not with him here."

She looked over at the Lieutenant, then back with a devilish glint in her eye. "Okay."

Reaching under her shirt and behind, she wriggled and squirmed, before pulling her bra out through the sleeve of her shirt and tossing it proudly over Fay's face. One of her maternity sized cups covered his eyes enough and Carol pulled her fists in close to her in triumph.

"Yes, three points!" She teased.

The Cajun slept on.

Daryl scowled disapprovingly at the Marine wearing his girl's bra on his face, but decided to let it slip as Carol was reaching for the waistband of his pants, sparing no time for him to verbally disapprove.

As her small, strong hand slipped inside the front of his pants, all thoughts vanished from his mind and he forgot the Cajun was even in the room.

Carol beamed and leaned in close, her hand doing wicked things to him out of sight.

"Jesus," he murmured as slammed her mouth against his like a hungry she-wolf. "Wai-" he sputtered, struggling to free himself.

She pulled back and blinked her big, beautiful blue eyes at him like an angel. "What?"

Nervously, he reached for his pack and opened it. "I…" he felt himself blush a little. "I have something for you…to use…sometimes."

She tilted her head as he pulled out the thing wrapped in a rag, wrapped in a bag and offered it to her.

"Oh honey," she teased sweetly, "you gift wrapped it and everything."

He felt his entire body turn into molten lava as she unwrapped the thing.

Carol eyed it in her hand for a minute.

The entire convent grounds were too fucking quiet, even with the faint sounds of a party coming from the nearby church as his girl eyed the purple thing.

Then she looked at him like a she-devil and whispered. "What is this?"

"What?"

"Is it sanitary?" She demanded.

"I hope to God it is," he replied.

She tsked. "And what am I supposed to do with this?"

The thing made a frightening buzzing sound when she turned the base and Daryl panicked, eyes moving to the doorway, then to the sleeping Cajun.

Carol grinned evilly and twisted the base again, amplifying the buzzing.

"Alright, Jesus, I had no idea it fucking did that, keep it down!" He whispered roughly.

"I'm sorry, I can't go back, I don't how it works," she joked, turning the base again.

The buzzing zinged three times rapidly, then slowed, then three times again in an almost musical pattern.

"Did I feed da goldfish?" Fay mumbled suddenly.

Carol turned the thing off and both of them eyed the man on the bed like deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi.

"Let da pilot do it," Fay griped and rolled over, his back to them.

"Okay," Carol whispered, tucking the thing in beside her. "Now is he asleep or passed out? Because I didn't think people who were passed out talked…"

"Fucked if I know," Daryl whispered back. "Usually when I was with someone passed out, I was blackout drunk myself."

"Go check," she urged.

Carefully, he crawled over to the bedside and tented up and over the Cajun to peer at his face.

The man's face was serene, peaceful, still.

Suddenly his eyes popped open and Daryl found himself being hauled over the Cajun and onto the bed, where he tumbled against the wall.

Fay sat up laughing merrily.

"Lieutenant!" Carol gasped.

"Aw, he's awrite," the Cajun swayed a little sitting there on the bed beside Daryl. He plucked Carol's bra off the bed between them and eyed it, before holding it up questioningly to Carol.

She shrugged shyly.

The Lieutenant flipped it at her with a shake of his head.

"You've been awake this whole time?" Daryl snarled.

Fay laughed. "Ya tink a bottle of bourbon is gon' put dis Cajun down? I was born on da bayou, _cabri_. Drinkin' bourbon like it was _mere's_ milk since I was old enuff ta sneak out. I jus' wanted ta see if yo' scrawny ass could lif' me. Ya _zeerahb_ lovebirds. Wit me in da room!" He struggled to his feet, helped by Daryl who kicked him in the ass, sending him up and then down onto the nest with Carol, where the Cajun floundered for a minute unsteadily.

Carol helped him get right with a small grin.

"Band break at da _fais do-do_," Fay muttered to her, getting to his feet. "Jus' gotta learn how we do tings on da bayou, ain't done until someone _defan_."

"Lieutenant," Carol exclaimed, getting up and steadying him, "you're not seriously going back to the party?"

"I need my girl and my bottle," Fay slurred, "in dat order. Dat _chouchoot_ is clean too, _ange_, I pulled it from a fresh plastic wrap myself, so get busy, yeah?"

"Hey," Daryl began.

Wagging his finger, Fay opened the door and stepped out, before turning back once more and saying, "if Gracie girl asks, I…I'm _un transport_."

"You fucking—" Daryl began, cutting off as the door shut, cutting the Cajun off from hearing the flavourful name Daryl was brewing up for him.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Carol asked, "the Lieutenant gave this to you to give to me?"

Daryl scowled. "You've been riding me a little hard lately, girl. I was scared it was going to fall off."

She blinked at him. "I'm about to ride you even harder," she stated coolly.

He swallowed a lump and blinked at her fearfully as she set the thing aside and crawled up onto the bed with him.

"Your pants are still undone," she pointed out impishly, tugging at the open fly roughly.

He flushed.

Carol laughed. "Let's just hope he's too drunk to really remember what happened."

"I told you it was a bad idea," he grumbled.

"Shh," she hushed him, hand slipping inside his pants. "I'm busy and you need to just keep quiet and deal with it."

"Jesus, woman," he rasped. "You're going to be the death of me."

She smirked. "_La petit mort_."

"What?" He gasped.

"Nothing."

Eyeing the forgotten toy in their nest through slitted eyes, Daryl decided to just go limp and let Carol do her thing. He couldn't stop her even if he wanted to and at the moment, with her hand working at him, he didn't want to.

Hell, he was sorry he ever complained. If it fell off, it'd be the best way to lose a dick any man ever.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "I'll be a little more gentle on you tonight, wouldn't want to destroy my favourite sex toy."

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********************************************************************************************auntheddy - I think they're about to frack...  
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********************************************************************************************You'reMyKindOfTrouble - Glen deserves some happiness and recognition, next on my list of characters I hate myself for neglecting that deserve happiness is Tyreese...********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Claire Randall Fraser - There's not a day goes by that I don't hate myself for killing off Maggie...I truly like her...but as with all my character deaths, it was literally just that her name was drawn from my envelope of names.********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Guest - I agree. Glenn is a fantastic character and needs all the love and respect he deserves!********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - Not yet...but soon perhaps some Milton/Michonne.********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - Haha! Didn't think of that Milton/Michonne/Andrea triangle...LOL!********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Yazzy x - Ah, Merle, the only man who can see tit and not lose his shit.********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - I hope Glenn's fling is productive too.********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************itsi3 - Merle is really coming around as a helpful type man, think he's growing like Daryl grew on the farm.********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Guest #2 - Reviews like yours keep this series alive, so thank you for it! I honestly appreciate it! I hope you have a lovely day, my friend!********************************************************************************************


	13. Everything Gonna Be Alright

**This chapter is dedicated to auntheddy. That lovely lady who sent me a Valentine on tumblr and I never made her diddly squat. So...I'm an awful person, but here you are my precious one. I honestly hope you like it. I'd feel like a giant fool if you don't. A giant foolish fool type fool.****__..-~-..__**

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**Milton's Log #?**

**Date Unknown**

I've misplaced my log book.

Did I log the events of last night yet? I feel like I haven't.

This morning has been a bit of a blur.

The wedding is gearing up. Think maybe an hour or two.

Still haven't figured out who came into my cot and left a used condom. Was it me? I feel like it couldn't have been. If it's not mine or…the implications that it could belong to someone else disgusts me. But if does belong to me…I really need to handle this like a detective first, then a gentleman.

I hope I didn't do anything untoward. I was under the influence of some pretty heavy substances.

I have otherwise been inducted into the men's only club, something which I've never been a part of. The initiation? Apparently Merle was spiking my cold tea with something stronger last night.

I may have smoked marijuana as well. I found remnants in the sheets of my cot. What do they call that little nub left from a marijuana joint? A bug? Something like that.

I found a bug in my cot.

Grace looks beautiful this morning in a dress supplied by Carol. The ladies pulled me into the ready room for the bride earlier to help with a technical problem with the old Singer sewing machine they were using for last minute alterations.

Carol looks absolutely stunning as well. I may have made a bit of a fool of myself in my shock.

Not to say I never found her appealing, but there's something about the both of them today. A tinge of pink to their cheeks, a sparkle in their eyes, a tiny, cat-like furl to the corners of their mouths.

Women are mysterious and breathtaking. I have to remember to appreciate them better.

Maybe it's the glow of pregnancy people always talk about that hangs about them.

To be honest, all of the women of the convent look beautiful today, wearing dresses for once and flowers in their hair, some of them flitting about from building to building in anticipatory excitement like fairies fluttering from leaf to leaf. Even Michonne, who normally scares me a little, came to the shed with a knowing smile on her lips and a flowy yellow dress on. She looked so alluring that I may have fumbled and dropped the mug of water she brought me for my hangover.

I have to admit I find the length of her neck appealing. She's strong, but there's a grace there that I like. I may have had inappropriate thoughts about her curves under that clingy dress. I should apologize to her later for my fumbling when she had been so kind as to bring me that water.

(If this ever becomes an official document, please omit that part about her curves and neck. I just don't want to seem unprofessional.)

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****Grace****

She had taken a moment to herself in the sacristy, avoiding the bustling of women and the sluggish movements of those hungover and suffering from the party (which in her opinion had gotten wildly out of hand).

The rows of hooks on the wall contained Father O'Rourke's vestments, his beautiful purple and gold stole, alongside the priests robes hung a few full habits for nuns hanging beside them, kept there due to lack of space in the dorms.

Brushing up the thin plastic protective covering, she fingered the thick, rough black hem of a robe, feeling the material between her thumb and finger, reminding her that this was all real.

Releasing the garment, she allowed the plastic to fall back down over it, dropping her hand to her 'wedding' gown. That silly floral dress Carol had saved for her from that boutique before she blew away in the gale wind.

She had worn summer dresses like this as a young woman, in fact one of the last pieces of civilian clothes she had worn before the habit had been a dress very similar.

Seemed fitting, she supposed.

To be honest, she wouldn't miss that hot, heavy black and white habit. The wimple scratched her and the veil always got caught in doors when she closed them behind her and it took her forever to learn how to roll up the sleeves in such a way that they wouldn't interfere with work.

Beside the standing mirror, she gazed at the woman in the reflection. Dark, greying hair, porcelain complexion, small nose, small lips, small hands and feet.

Lord, Lafayette was right, she was a perfect little doll.

A perfect little doll with crow's feet and frown lines from years of disapproving of everything.

She smiled a little and her reflection copied her.

Behind the woman in the mirror, she spied two little angels peeking around the doorframe at her and turned around.

"You look beautiful, mama," Annie declared shyly, still peering around the doorframe at her.

"Thank you, my darling," she returned. "Why on earth are you hiding in the doorway? Come inside and let me take a good look at you."

Annie stomped in a little sullenly, the overly frilly white dress Mary Claire had put her in swishing, the broad, blue silk bow already askew.

Grace knelt down and adjusted the bow as Olivia joined them in her own, matching white dress, her new patent leather shoes squeaking on the polished hardwood of the sacristy.

"Do I have to wear this?" Annie complained. "I look like a jerk."

"Well, you certainly will not be marching around in your altogether, darling," Grace pointed out. "It'll only be for a little while."

"But I don't look as pretty as you," Annie grumbled.

Grace smiled at the girl and kissed her forehead. "We are all beautiful in God's eyes, my child."

"But you're beautifuler," Annie pointed out, tugging at the braids in her hair and fidgeting.

"But you're the ugly duckling," Olivia said. "She grew into a beautiful swan!"

Annie scowled. "You're an ugly duckling!"

"Dummy!"

Grabbing both girls by the shoulder, Grace wheeled them to the door, guiding them out before a fight could ensue. She marched them across the church, where people were beginning to get things righted after the party, to where Mary Agnes sat with Merle on a pew.

Merle looked well, considering his night, sitting very close to Mary Agnes and smiling wickedly at her.

Grace paused before them with a small grin. "May I ask a small favour," she began.

"We'll watch the little scrappers," Merle said.

"You've got a lot on your plate today," Mary Agnes added, holding out her arms, inviting both girls to her lap.

Olivia took to her lap eagerly, but Annie leapt at Merle's, sacking the poor man.

He grunted and caught her.

"Jesus, small fry, ease up on my nuts," Merle growled.

Fighting with a strand of hair that had fallen from the careful curls Adele had put her hair up into, Grace paced a little, before deciding on a direction. Rethinking the modest white heels Sasha had scrounged up for her, Grace removed them as she wandered down the aisle of the church in search of Carol.

Outside she spied Daryl lounging around on the stoop with Rick and Glenn, the latter two men were actually spit polished and looking very appropriate for the occasion, Daryl however earned a second take from Grace.

"Daryl, honey," she began with a gentle smile. It was a military tactic straight from the pages of Better Homes and Garden. A tactic her prim, Southern Catholic nee Baptist mother had taught her at a very young age. "You may get away with tearing the sleeves off of fine plaid shirts when you're out in the wild hunting game and slaying abominations, but for my wedding, if you could scrounge up something more formal, I would be very grateful." She brushed his shaggy bangs off his forehead and tsked. "You have such a handsome face, I'd imagine you could shine up very nicely for the occasion. Very cute," she teased, brushing a finger over his mole.

He glared at the world, but didn't dare turn that glare on her.

"Please?" She pleaded. "For me? For my wedding day?"

"I ain't wearing a suit," he grumbled.

"Not a suit," she coaxed. "Maybe just a button up that still has sleeves attached and some slacks that aren't covered in the woods and the wild? Could you do that for me, sweetie? Hm?"

He scowled at the sky overhead.

Grace adjusted the collar of his worn, ratty shirt and smiled sweetly at him. "Daryl, now I know you're a giant ball of squishy sweetness inside, don't give me that mean old wolf routine."

She stepped back and eyed Rick and Glenn approvingly. "You boys look so handsome," she greeted, adjusting Glenn's tie and giving Rick a kiss on the cheek as he took her hands in his gently and squeezed. "Very happy to see you up and about this morning," she whispered in his ear.

"You look beautiful, Grace," he offered.

She sheepishly touched a hand to her hair and huffed. "Oh, I feel foolish actually. Marriage is a young woman's game, I think."

"I look amazing, Grace," Glenn pointed out firmly, taking her hands next and kissing her cheek.

She beamed at him. "Oh, honey, you darling boy."

Turning lastly to Daryl, feeling bad for scolding him, she took his rough hands in hers and smiled. "I'm sorry, honey, you know I adore you and want you to come however you are."

He shyly took a step forward, hesitated, then quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek, flushing a little as he pulled back.

She beamed at him and stroked her hand through his shaggy hair. "How is he this morning?" She asked.

He shrugged. "You know that Cajun, keeps whatever is really on his mind to himself."

"Is he hungover badly?"

"Nah, drink a gallon of coffee," Daryl said.

Fluttering away from the men, leaving them to their conversation, she moved towards the infirmary, still looking for Carol.

It didn't dawn on her to ask Daryl when she was with them, but as she turned back to ask, she found him slinking away towards the dorms and decided to just head onwards on her own.

Pausing by Milton who was leaning heavily against the corner of the infirmary, having just discretely thrown up his breakfast in the bushes there, she gave him a sympathetic smile and touched a hand to his as she passed.

Inside the infirmary, she found Carol and a gathering of women, all of them standing around Dean looking anywhere from disappointed to angry, to downright amused.

The young man looked a little green around the gills from his adventures the night before, but it wasn't just a hangover that had him looking sickly, it was Elise crying in the corner that had his eyes darting there and back and his face looking wan.

Mary Agnes swooped in, grabbing the boy by the elbow and guiding him out of the infirmary, before anyone could do anything.

Grace gazed after them curiously, before turning to the crying girl.

Mary Claire and Adele were easing down on either side of her, so Grace turned to Carol who moved to stand beside her, joined by Tyreese and St. James.

"Well," she greeted the two men. "Don't you men look as fine as a Sunday afternoon in Savannah."

"It wasn't easy to find suits and ties in the apocalypse," St. James purred, smoothing down his tie proudly, "but we have connections."

Tyreese stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. "You look breathtaking," he greeted.

She kissed him back happily. "Thank you."

St. James offered her the same greeting, fumbling a little and stepping on her bare foot. "Sorry," he muttered looking devastated.

"Where's your shoes?" Carol asked.

Grace wriggled her toes and gave St. James an accepting look for his apology. "I can't remember."

"She left them in the church," Father O'Rourke said, joining them from the doorway, shoes in hand.

Grace eyed them.

"Lying's a sin, you know," Father O'Rourke teased, handing her the shoes.

She tsked and accepted them from the priest. "You really are so helpful, Father."

The man bowed his head. "I do what I can." He took her by her upper arms warmly. "You look like an angel."

"If angels were pregnant women approaching fifty, then yes, I suppose I resemble one."

Father O'Rourke shrugged. "I can't lie. I'm a priest."

"And you're here just to remind us?" Grace demanded playfully.

"The Lieutenant wanted me to tell you that everyone's beginning to gather in the church, so, whenever you're ready."

"Oh…just like that?" Her stomached dropped a little. She wasn't afraid of marrying the Lieutenant, it wasn't that at all, it was just…she really did feel so foolish. This didn't feel like her, she wasn't this kind of woman.

"I was told to tell you that it's all at your leisure," he said. "Whenever you're ready, Grace."

As soon as Father O'Rourke left with Tyreese and St. James and the others, Grace turned to Carol, who stood beside her.

"Oh, that's very sudden isn't it?" Grace asked her.

Carol smiled softly. "Are you okay?"

Touching the gunshot scar on her bare shoulder, Grace murmured, "I've been shot at and it wasn't this stressful."

"Fight or flight?" Carol asked.

"Oh, I don't know." Grace said. "I…okay, let's go."

"Now?"

"Yes."

She eyed the door of the church for the longest time, Carol quietly at her side.

Grace frowned. She really did want to marry the man, but it was just this initial leap. This…ceremony. It was all so official. Well…the last time she married someone, it was Jesus and she recalled that ending on a low note.

Okay, she told herself. Just, get it over with, then go back to bossing that Cajun around.

Oh Lord, he really needed it, didn't he?

She nodded to Carol, who smiled and reached for the church door, just as Daryl came running up dressed in a long sleeved top and slacks, his hair spit slicked back.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I did my best."

Grace beamed at the man, grateful for the break in her inner turmoil. "You look handsome, Daryl. Thank you, honey."

Kissing Carol, the man ducked inside quickly and Carol gave him a minute or two to get settled inside, before turning back to Grace.

"Ready?" She asked.

Grace nodded.

The door opened and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim church.

Down the aisle lined with pews, filled with people who were all staring back at her, stood Father O'Rourke, Daryl and Lafayette in his silly dress uniform.

She didn't even have the right mind to think about scolding him for wearing his hat in her church, her heart was frozen, her feet firmly attached to the stoop beneath them.

"Oh, no," she gasped and pulled away from the door and the staring eyes, pressing hard into the alcove made by two flying buttresses on the outside of her church, just behind the door.

Carol eyed her from her place in the doorway.

"Just go," Grace whispered. "I'll be in…just give me a moment. Okay?"

Carol hesitated.

"Go," Grace urged, pressing harder against the wall. "Just go."

Glancing into the church, Carol slowly stepped inside, leaving Grace in a stiff, tense state against the wall just outside the door.

Her legs weren't working, her hands were set in a form of rigor mortis at her side. All those eyes inside, too many people and she was dressed like some flower child throwback.

Oh, her mother would be turning in her coffin.

A lean, handsome face peeked around the door at her, white hat and all. "Don't do it," Lafayette teased.

She scowled. "What?"

"Don't jump," he said.

"What?" She snapped.

"You…you're standing like you're on a ledge," he clarified. "You know, like a jumper."

She glanced over at him. Lord that hat was ridiculous. Well, it looked good on him. Okay, he looked good in his dress uniform, but she wasn't going to be all gooey over that fact. Any man could look good in a dress uniform, that was just fact.

"It's not you, lover," she said, calming a little in his presence.

"Oh, good," he said. "For a minute there I thought maybe it was this hat." He removed it anyways and turned it over in his hands as he rounded the door a little more. "Can I join you?" He whispered. "On your ledge?"

She nodded.

Lafayette posted up beside her in the alcove.

"I love you," she stated. "Just so you know."

"Good," he said.

"I just…I feel silly," she admitted.

He turned the hat over in his hands, nodding. "In what way?"

"I'm not one for paper moons and muslin flowers, not at my age," she confessed.

"But you…still want to get married, yeah?"

"Of course, just…it's just this."

"_Mais_," he glanced out over the convent grounds. "It's your wedding, magpie. You do what you want and I'll support you."

She nodded. "I know."

"I knew a woman once," he began with a small grin. "Got married in the Nezpique."

Grace smiled. "She didn't."

"Yep, right there in the water, up to their knees, both her and Jack Valois, shivering cold, married in the Nezpique."

"Why on earth would she get married in the water?"

"It was her wedding and her decision," he said. "Ah, but they were happy. It was a good marriage."

"You…you have alligators in the swamps in Louisiana though, don't you?"

He beamed. "Not in the Nezpique."

"Still a foolish thing to do," she said.

"Yep, but it was her choice."

Grace smiled up at the Cajun beside her. "Can I ask you something, lover?"

"Today, for you, anything."

"These stories you tell, are they true?" She demanded.

"A false witness will not go unpunished, and he who breathes out lies will perish," he quoted gently.

She smirked. "Okay, let's test this honest Cajun then. How do I look today?"

"The same as every other day," he returned. "Perfect."

She scoffed.

"I mean it, darling, you're the type of woman who inspires artists to paint masterpieces."

She laughed softly and pushed him away. "Alright, turn off the charm, it's coming on a little strong."

He chuckled and replaced his hat.

"Go inside," she said. "I'll be right behind you."

The tall Marine bowed his head and scuffed at the steps with his shoe and when he glanced up at her from under the brim of his hat she could see his eyes were a little moist.

"I love you, magpie," he said earnestly.

She didn't think he had ever been so honest before.

She reached out and touched his cheek. "I know, lover. I feel the same way. Now go inside, I'll meet you at the altar."

He stooped down to steal a kiss and pulled away slowly. "Are you sure? You don't have to—"

"I'm sure," she said. "It's not about the journey, it's the destination."

He beamed at her and ducked inside.

Smoothing down her dress, she peeked around the door and found everyone sitting quietly in the church. She focused on the front, where her Cajun waited for her and took a step inside.

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********************************************************************************************Claire Randal Fraser - Right? Daryl best appreciate all the lovin' he can get right now, because once baby comes there will be many a sleepless night and not due to sexin'.  
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********************************************************************************************vickih - I understand that urge. I honestly feel awful when I write other stuff, like, we all know why people come around here. And it's not for that other junk. ^_^********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************auntheddy - Christmas at your place must be a kick ass party. ^_^********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Yazzy x - What I'd like to know is that if he was pretending how come he just let Carol whap him in the face with her bra. Dirty Cajun...********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Brazen Hussy - I hate to disappoint you. Maybe next round. ^_^********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Ciao Bella - I...I think dildo racing is my new favourite competitive sport. Thanks! You made my year!********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************Surplus Imagination - I know it's in poor taste, but when you use the term 'purple zapper' all I could think was 'purple zapper in her snapper'. I'm sorry, I'll show myself out now...********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************itsi3 - Thanks!********************************************************************************************

********************************************************************************************jaibhagwan - She does deserve it. Carol deserves all of the things in life that are good and lovely.********************************************************************************************


	14. A Change Is Gonna Come

**__This chapter skips ahead some. Just a warning. This entire story will skip months and years and such, just for fun.__**

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**Milton's Historical Logs #272**

**Saturday, November 28, 2015**

Born this morning at approximately 8:13 to Carol and Daryl Dixon one female child, both mother and child came out of it healthy. 8 pounds, 2 ounces, 19 inches. Named Scout Rose Dixon. (Personal note of Milton Mamet, author of this log: the little girl is amazingly beautiful and grabbed my finger! I don't think infants that young possess the motor skills to accomplish that.) Carol asked Grace to name the little girl, since neither Daryl nor herself could come up with one that seemed appropriate. I believe Grace named her after the child in Harper Lee's novel, which she claimed had been her favourite since childhood.

Since returning from Atlanta, I've made note that our supplies are ample enough to last us through the winter and into the spring, thankfully the team managed to find dry goods enough to keep and preserves enough to last, but I feel the need at this point to add that Carl is planning another trip into the city before Christmas comes in the hopes of securing enough for us for future seasons before people get plundering in the city.

The group called a meeting two days ago, wanting to elect a leader, with Rick still weak and keeping his head down, the Alpha females are calling for the leader to be Andrea or Carol, the nuns (former?) are calling for it to be Grace, the only woman who really wants to lead is Andrea, but she doesn't have the support like Carol and Grace do. The Alpha males have chosen to remain quiet about the leadership, no one wants the position, therefore no one is volunteering to nominate or be nominated.

With winter in full swing here, we've been dealing with colds mostly, but Herschel and St. James are worried about influenza. We've been told to prepare for a hard winter.

**Current population: 33 **

**Current forecast: 47º, Overcast**

**Current mood: Elated (She's a really beautiful little girl!)**

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****Daryl****

He really didn't know what to do.

Beside him Carol dozed in the infirmary cot, her face tranquil and beautiful, in a crib nearby lay his little girl, also sleeping off the events of her early morning venture into the world.

He kept getting up and pacing, checking the place for imaginary threats, eyeing everyone who entered with new, suspicious eyes.

Then he would go to the crib, check in on the little girl, his hands itching to hold her again.

He should have never let Herschel put her down for a nap in the first place, he should have held on to her.

He'd hold on to her forever if he had to, just let her ride around on his shoulders where she'd be safest.

This wasn't like a first car or a first home, this was the same, but different. Completely different.

But the same.

He couldn't describe it.

That little girl in that crib was his, he helped make her and she had his blood in her veins.

There was no real way to describe his feeling.

His heart felt like it was going to collapse in on itself and go supernova, but he also felt calm and at peace.

But he also wanted to keep everyone from even touching his daughter.

His daughter.

He never thought he'd have one of those.

"Here, darling," Adele said softly from his side, holding out a jug of cold water purified with that contraption of Milton's. "For Carol."

Daryl took it with a bow of his head in gratitude.

"Anything for your beloved brother?" Fay asked from the cot beside Carol's where he and his girls were allowed to linger, his hands busy making paper cranes as Annie and Olivia quietly coloured in a book at his side.

"Besides a slap?" Adele teased, moving to pinch her brother's arm.

"Oo ye yi!" Fay grumbled gently so as not to wake mother or child. "_Possede_."

"He's not bothering you, is he?" Adele asked Daryl. "Because I can ship him off to the mines if you want."

Daryl shook his head. He liked the backup help in watching over his girls, it comforted him to know Fay (and Merle who was lingering just outside) were there to keep an eye out for his family.

After Adele left, Daryl turned his eyes back on his daughter, watching as she twitched in her sleep, big blue eyes scrunched up, face red from screaming at the world when she entered.

Thinking of how she entered the world, he actually prayed to God that she would leave more peacefully a long, long time from now. He hoped she had a happy, full life.

Suddenly it struck him how hard Carol must have taken Sophia's death. Her screaming and throwing herself irrationally towards her little girl's shuffling form suddenly made sense to him.

He wouldn't let that happen to his girl, his Scout.

He scoffed at the name. He liked it. It came out of nowhere, the book Grace mentioned was familiar to him, but he never read it when they were forced to in school. He took off during those classes, stole some candy and a bottle of root beer from Shady's Shack and went fishing in the creek, the book left in his locker to rot.

Maybe he'd read it now, since winter seemed to have slowed down any of their chores, Grace said she had a copy somewhere on her bookshelf in her office.

"Fay?" He asked softly over Carol's form, hand moving to brush against hers.

"Hn?"

"You ever read that book, you know, the one Grace named Scout after?" He asked.

"To Kill A Mockingbird? Sure, had to in grade school."

"What's it about?"

"Little girl and her brother growing up in dark times, somehow clinging to her innocence, observing everything through a child's eyes and with the guiding wisdom of a strong, patient father."

"That little girl? That's Scout?"

"Yep."

"What kind of dark times?"

"Alabama, during the times of segregation and racism. The story goes that a man named Tom…Tom…Robertson? Something like that. And he's on trial see, for raping a white girl and Scout's daddy is set to defend him in court. The story is told through her eyes."

"Is it good?"

"I liked it. It was a good story, important, I think."

"Scout," Daryl murmured, getting up and checking on his girl, pacing the floor again, checking the windows and door. "She a good girl? This Scout?"

"Yep, little tomboy though, like to beat up the boys when she got riled."

Daryl scoffed.

"Figure that girl is named right," Fay went on, "if she gets her daddy's temper."

"Am I named right?" Annie demanded.

Daryl and the Lieutenant exchanged an amused look. Both men knowing that there was no way Fay would know for sure if the girl was named right or not.

Daryl knew the Cajun would fake it.

Sure enough, Fay smirked and said, "of course, you're named after Annie Edson Taylor."

"Who?"

"The first person who survived going over Niagra Falls in a barrel."

Annie pulled a face as Daryl moved back to the crib where his little girl slept. He watched her quietly, putting her face to memory.

"What about me?" Olivia demanded.

"Olivia de Havilland."

"Who's that?"

"Whatever happens, I'll love you just as I do now until I die," Fay quoted in a squeaky girl's voice.

Both little girls muffled their giggles behind their hands at their daddy.

"I love Gone With the Wind," Carol murmured from the bed, prompting Daryl to race to her side.

He flung himself down in the chair, just as Fay swept the girls to their feet with a grin at Daryl. He paused by Carol's bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead and murmur. "She's a beautiful girl, ange. Perfect little doll."

Carol smiled up at him catching his wrist to stay his exit. "I knew she would be."

Fay beamed. "Amazing little girl. _Petit jolie_."

"You sound like you're smitten, Lieutenant," she teased.

"Hopelessly," the man replied, straightening up and smoothing Carol's hair off her forehead. "She's the luckiest little girl in the world, I think."

"She won't want for love or family," Carol said. "That's for sure."

"We're lucky too, daddy!" Annie declared loudly.

"You two are going to be tossed into a sack and hung over a fire if you don't get back to the dorms and get your homework done," the Lieutenant teased as the three of them left Daryl and Carol in peace.

Daryl offered his girl a small grin after a moment. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, tired though."

"Sorry, we didn't mean to—"

"You didn't," she cut him off. "How is she?"

"Still sleeping."

"Come up here with me," she urged with a small grin.

He tried to smoothly ease onto the bed at her side, but his pant leg got caught against the old crank on the bed and he fumbled, before flopping gracelessly at her side.

He offered her a sheepish wince, which earned a laugh from his girl.

"Smooth," she teased.

Moving in close to her, he nuzzled at the side of her neck and wrapped his arm around her. "Never mind your lip, girl," he growled in her ear.

She beamed and squirmed in his arms.

"Remember when Milton stepped in some of the birth goo and almost fell on his ass?" He asked her after a moment.

She laughed. "I don't remember much, I was kind of busy. Poor Milton."

"I don't think he's seen a woman's underparts in a while," Daryl went on. "He turned a pretty bright shade of red."

"Well, it wasn't a dance party for me neither," she admitted.

Turning over so that he was lying at her side on his back, he kept one foot on the floor to prevent himself from falling off the narrow bed, the other twining with hers.

After a few seconds he got up again and moved to the crib to peer down at his daughter, still amazed that she was his.

Behind him Carol adjusted her position in the bed and said, "so? What do we do now?"

He laughed softly. "I don't know. Never planned for this."

"Me neither," she admitted. "Not for another one. I was still kind of in denial over the fact that I was having another baby at my age. A girl is a nice surprise though, I think."

He turned around. That was one thing he was worried about, Carol having another girl, but she seemed to be okay with it. Her eyes were bright and shining, her face tranquil.

"What did Grace name her again? I was kind of out of it," she asked.

"Scout, Scout Rose Dixon," he answered almost shyly. It was strange for him to call her a Dixon, he assumed he would soon come to terms with the girl being his own flesh and blood.

"Oh, yes," Carol chuckled. "Scout."

"You like it?" He asked.

She nodded. "It's…somehow fitting, I guess. Figures Grace would be a Harper Lee fan."

Daryl immediately straightened at the sounds of mewling coming from the crib behind him and turned to find his little girl squirming, slowly waking, her plump, pink lips mashing together into a duck beak as her pudgy cheeks seemed to push them out.

God, she was so beautiful.

"Here," Carol said almost excitedly, "bring her here. She's probably hungry."

Gingerly he reached into the crib and picked up his girl just as Mrs. Douglas showed him, smiling at the warm, tiny, pudgy girl. He remembered holding Judith, but this was different. This time the baby girl was his and she was amazing. She would grow up to be amazing.

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**vickih - My friend, I wouldn't post replies here if they weren't open for discussion. A purple zapper in the snapper was my least classy, but favourite thing I've said in a long time.  
**

**Claire Randal Fraser - Oh, knowing baby boy Merle Dixon, he probably shot off at the mouth.**

**auntheddy - Big Momma Thornton, actually. Most of these chapter titles are from the GD&amp;S soundtrack on youtube.**

**Yazzy x - Daryl is such a softie deep down that all Grace had to do was ask. ^_^**

**Surplus Imagination - No Armageddon...yet. ^_^**


	15. Cold Blows the Wind

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**December 5, 2015**

**Miss Deveau,**

All is well in Tennessee, I'm pleased that Sergeant Delgado's men have taken it upon themselves to create a sort of mail system in order for all our groups to keep in contact with each other. It makes these reports I send you easier.

My men are wintering well in Fort Knox, we have enough supplies scrounged from Memphis to keep us alive and in good health.

I'm grateful for your report on the condition of your people. It pleases me to know that things are happy and prosperous there. I should also send my congratulations on behalf of myself and my men to Miss Carol for what surely is a beautiful baby girl. We're all relieved both survived the birth and are in good health. I personally look forward to meeting the young lady when we return on our Spring rounds of the two states.

As far as young Annie's inquiries as to whether or not Elvis really did own a pink car that was still parked at Graceland I can confirm that, yes he did and yes there is a 1956 Cadillac Eldorado convertible parked inside the museum there. The jam she sent me was very delicious and I regret to inform her that it was confiscated by Sergeant Fredricks soon after its arrival. I managed to obtain a spoonful and enjoyed it.

As far as Olivia's own contribution to the report you've sent me, I wasn't aware that my hair was green, but now that I have been informed of the situation I have taken care to rectify it. You can send my thanks for the portrait I have it hanging by my desk for the time we spend here and will take it with me when we leave.

As for your inquiry over whether or not we will be returning before Spring, the answer is no, I do not feel like now is the time to be leaving our post here at Fort Knox. We will be around as soon as possible come more clement weather.

I hope you're doing well. And that Celeste and Langdon are happy. If there's anything you need, if I have the capabilities to help, I will do my best. You must know this. I am at your service, Miss Deveau.

**Major Henry O'Hara**

**US Armed Forces (remnants thereof)**

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****Adele****

"I'm going to die."

Looking up from where she was sitting with Celeste and Langdon on the rug in front of Grace's office fireplace where a hearty fire was raging, letter from Major O'Hara in hand, Adele sighed and shook her head at her brother.

"You aren't going to die," she argued. "My God throw a sweater on or something."

"Texian winters with their goddamned Texian chill," Fate went on, teeth chattering as he huddled by the fireplace. "One morning they'll find me curled up like one of those hikers on Mount Everest, huddled over for warmth. I should have never left the bayou."

"I'll be sure to put your body in a more hilarious pose then," she stated. "As least until Spring thaw sets in and you start shuffling around like an uggie."

Sniffling, her brother wriggled further under his heavy blankets as Grace waddled in with a cup of steaming tea in hand.

"Here, put this in your mouth," the woman snarled.

Everyone had been ducking out of her path lately since hormones were amping up as her due date crept on them.

Standing up with Celeste in her arms and Langdon close at her heel, Adele approached Grace tentatively. "Is there anything I can do for you, Grace?" She asked.

"Yes, honey," Grace sighed, easing her ass against her desk and touching a weary hand to her stomach. "You can squeeze my gut until I pop like a pimple."

Adele blinked at her brother, who sullenly sipped at his tea and slipped further down into his blanket maelstrom. Grace only had one more month to go, then she would go back to her sweet, charming self.

Until then, it seemed it was wise to just avoid her.

"Well I'll be around then," she said sweetly, giving Grace a peck on the cheek on her way out, hoping to encourage the woman somehow.

Seemed no one moved very far or very fast since winter set in. Carol and Daryl were holed up in the beautiful little cottage type home Daryl had built for them with their sweet, bubbling baby girl. Even the others in the dorms kept to their rooms. There were only two walking the walls at all times now, just because the threat level was low and the weather was miserable.

It was a dark and lonely winter and while there was no snow on the ground, there was a fairly heavy chill in the air.

The letter (or report as he called it) from Major O'Hara was nice, it was very nice. Sort of old fashioned to send mail, but she supposed it was how things would be for a while yet.

Pace had delivered it just that morning, riding his horse through the cold, quietly speaking with Father O'Rourke at the gate, handing off the letter from O'Hara and one from Ruth in the woods letting them know that they were doing fine, before heading home for a hot meal and a warm bed.

The Texan seemed to switch off mail rounds between himself, Carter and Sid. And it seemed to work, with them riding their horses, keeping to the backroads, moving through the night, riding fast and riding hard.

In the dorm kitchen she found Merle sitting at the table with Dean, Annie and Olivia, the four of them playing poker, Merle patiently teaching the girls how to play, Mary Agnes, or Norma Jean as she asked to be called since following in Grace's footsteps out of the habit and into the secular world, stood at the counter going through their supplies with Sasha.

The two had been put in charge of supplies by Carol, who thought it would be good to have people who specialized in things and no one argued. Whenever she made an appearance from her home, Carol brought with her new and interesting ideas on how to run the convent smoothly.

Grace, it seemed, had become Carol's right hand woman. While Carol came up with the ideas, Grace enforced them.

It was a strange leadership that had just sort of happened, but seemed to work.

Andrea didn't seem to like the idea though. She argued that just because Carol and Grace bossed people around, didn't make it a fair democracy, Grace and Carol usually countered with the fact that they weren't trying to boss people around, only make the convent run efficiently.

Adele didn't know just what to think. She sided with Grace, naturally, because she was family, but she could see Andrea's side of things. They needed a definite leader, a vote to make things fair and honest.

Still, if there was a vote Adele would most likely end up voting for Carol and Grace, they ran the place without being over bearing or dominating. Even with her irritable tendencies as of late, Grace still managed to ask people to do things in such a way that it wasn't a demand, but a request and people seemed eager to do for her, just as they were eager to listen to Carol's wisdom.

Moving to stand beside Toby who was quietly sitting on the floor by the warm kitchen stove, head bent to his math homework, Adele smiled at the boy and set Celeste down to play with her soft plushy lobster and allowed Langdon to grasp her hand as she stood there watching the goings on of the kitchen. Celeste had just begun to sit up last month and this month her baby girl was already able to grasp and shake and wiggle her lobster.

It amazed her that Celeste was growing up so fast. Judith, as well, was on her way to being a toddler quite quickly, as she was already taken tentative steps and had to be placed in a playpen as all she seemed to want to do was go.

That was the task Adele had been given, childcare. She watched over the babies of the convent if needed. Her role would be more important come Spring when people ventured forth more often, for now she only had her own to watch over.

She liked how the place was progressing. Without that many uggies outside the walls (there had only been two sightings since fall), they had somehow all settled enough to finally feel like they could really put down roots.

Glenn was even talking about trading. Since their raids of Atlanta were going so well, he was thinking of setting up a trading post in the nearby plantation where groups from the region could come and trade for things.

Everyone thought it was a wonderful idea and Carol had said that come Spring they would arrange armed people to protect the post and put Glenn in charge of it since it was his idea.

He even came up with the ambitious idea of one day having a travelling trading outfit that could go from neighbouring state to neighbouring state, but that he said would be far down the road.

It was nice to hear people starting to talk about rebuilding society. It was nicer still to think that they had a second chance to do it right. To do things better. To run it smoother.

As for herself, Adele had begun to look around the convent at available men for a husband. She wanted Celeste and now Langdon (who it seemed she sort of adopted without knowing it) to have a nice family structure, in the off chance something happened to her and her brother, but she feared the one person she had set her sights on was hopelessly unavailable (if the overly professional nature of his report was to be believed).

Not that she was going to give up, but she thought she'd keep her options open. There were some good bachelors available at the convent who would also be very good fathers and husbands.

Hell, she even had Mr. Blue on her shortlist. Just because he was a very kind man, who sort of oozed fatherly charm. She wasn't putting anyone out to pasture. Not when it came to her daughter's safety and happiness.

So far her short list of husbands consisted of Mr. Blue, Tyreese, the younger Kowalski brother and St. James. But she kept her eye on Rick closely, just in case he ever looked like he was about to become interested in anything other than his daughter and those silly little feathery fishing hooks he had come to find he liked to work on to keep busy. No one knew why he was doing it, but he seemed content.

Adele worried about him though. Everyone did. But no one wanted to tell him that he couldn't just step back for once, no one had the heart to throw him back out into the white capped waters to sink or swim, so whenever Carl and Glenn made their supply runs, they would bring back the supplies Rick needed.

It still broke her heart a little.

"I have a lot of house," Annie declared loudly and showed her cards to the entire table.

"Full house," Merle corrected. "And that's a goddamned straight."

"Whatever it is, I have it and I win," Annie stated dragging in her winnings.

"Fucking little turd monkey," Merle growled, tossing in his cards for Dean to deal. "How the shit are you winning over there?"

"Just lucky I guess!" Annie stated swinging her legs under the table and taking a gulp of her homemade iced tea like an old card sharp drinking their whiskey from a tumbler.

The girl was spending far too much time with Merle lately and it was beginning to show in the most unexpectedly adorable way. Merle had softened somewhat, not enough to not scare Adele a little, but enough that people didn't hesitate to go 'aw' whenever they caught him and Annie or Olivia on some kind of adventure, one or the other of oftentimes both girls would be trailing behind him like a shadow as Merle ambled about the convent.

It was different from when they draped themselves off of Adele's brother as the man moved about, it was almost respectful but also adoring, far different from the outright love and worship they seemed to possess for their father, but with Uncle Merle it was almost shyly done. Like both girls were too nervous to out rightly adore Merle, so were content to just trail behind him in the hopes he'd offer to entertain them somehow.

Even now, sitting at the table with him, both girls kept their eyes on Merle adoringly, waiting for a prompt from him or any sign of affection or approval.

It was sweet, the man tried hard to not be affected by these two sprites, but they seemed to be the only ones who he ever let get away with certain things.

It wasn't hard for someone who was looking to notice how Merle adored the girls in return. How his eyes softened when he found one or the other smiling at him, how even though he claimed to be annoyed by the two girls, he always seemed to have time to teach them something new and always tried to answer questions they asked him.

Adele had to admit that until she learned that Norma Jean had claimed him, Merle had been on her short list at one point.

But she was pleased to hear that he at least had a good woman. He certainly deserved one.

No, their convent group was growing wonderfully. She was happy, despite everything.

Everyone seemed happy in their own way.

But she somehow knew that it meant that they would find themselves taking a hard fall.

Seemed that was how things went lately.

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**Guest - Heartache and tragedy...isn't that how TWD goes? Hehe. ^_^**

**Claire Randall Fraser - You know that Dixon clan is like wolves. They protect their own fiercely. Newborns especially.**

**auntheddy - Ugh, now I'm craving cheese. Thanks.**

**vickih - Oh, you know daddy Daryl is going to be hopelessly devoted and very protective.**

**Yazzy x - Thanks. I thought long and hard on it. Daryl is a hard nut to crack, but I think he'd be completely overwhelmed a little by the fact that he's actually a daddy.**

**Ciao Bella - Good question! The kind I love! ^_^ Carol didn't have a C-Section, because I looked into it and because she had a child before, she wouldn't have half the trouble Grace will. Grace will probably have a C-Section performed.**

**Brazen Hussy - Don't think I put Merle into this chapter just for you...you're getting spoiled. ^_^**

**itsi3 - He becomes a big child when babies are involved. Giant squishy...**

**Surplus Imagination - I refuse to even believe that you could think that Carol would look anything but amazingly beautiful. She's a goddess and always perfect. *cheesy grin* Yes, it was Daryl's rose coloured glasses. He thinks like me. Carol could never, ever be awful looking. She could be covered in troll snot and he'd still find her sexy as hell.**

**Princess Cruella - Thanks for the review! And thanks for reading! I enjoy it when people enjoy this series! It pleases me. Grace should be one month from her due date in this chapter. She's two months behind Carol.**


	16. Spirit In The Sky

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**Milton's Historical Logs #265**

**Sunday, December 24, 2015**

By my calculations its Christmas time at the convent.

Not that that means anything. It's been a fairly cold snap this past week, so everyone is holing up inside their buildings and homes, fires blazing in whatever fireplace they managed to cobble together.

Me? I've been holed up watching over Toby in the wolves den. The boy has been sick with a bad cold for a week now and I'm beginning to get worried. Any longer and I'll have St. James look him over for signs of something serious. I worry that the boy may not be telling me how sick he is, he tends to keep things to himself a lot and I can't figure out why he's been so quiet and withdrawn lately.

The election Andrea has been asking for has finally been called.

How it came about was like this, I bear witness as I was there.

Andrea had been going around the convent discontent with her lot in life so she's been talking (loudly) about elections for months.

She was doing so with as much emphasis as she could in the kitchens, when Grace – eight months pregnant and a wee bit terrifying with hormonal urges to murder and maim – says 'Andrea, if you want to do this so officially then let's have a vote and shut you up for good!'

I've never seen Grace so angry and I'm sure I wasn't the only one shocked to see her.

For what felt like hours no one moved, no one said anything, then Carol stepped forward and spoke – her beautiful little girl in her arms, giving Carol the appearance of some Nordic All-Mother goddess. Half warrior, half matron.

"I'd kind of like one too," she said.

That was it. The decision. History in the making wasn't made in some hall of male dominated power, but a homey convent kitchen.

We held a group meeting in the church where nominations were made.

Rick, Carol, Andrea, Grace and shockingly Merle were all tossed into the mix.

We were given coloured marbles from an old Chinese checkers board. White for Rick, black for Carol, green for Andrea, yellow for Grace and red for Merle.

I took my time, mulling over the options.

Rick declined the nomination during this time, having done some mulling of his own.

I chose yellow, since this place was originally under Grace's leadership (and despite her horrifying turn, she is normally a fair and just woman.)

The votes rolled in (no pun intended.)

It was Carol by just two, beating Grace out only marginally. No one dared argue, it was all done fairly and Andrea couldn't complain.

Carol's first task was to elect Grace as co-leader, which was a clever move, it solidified both majority votes.

I think, in my own personal opinion, that I would follow both women to hell and back. I trust them that much.

**Current population: 35**

**Current forecast: 7º**

**Current mood: Loyal**

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****Merle****

"No."

Carol held up the red suit and jiggled it temptingly, a cheeky grin splitting her face. "Please? You'd make the kids so happy."

"Shit no!" He declared.

"Think how happy those children will be," Grace chimed in, a pair of black boots and a doofy Santa Claus hat in her hands. "Think of the suffering they've seen. Of the hardship they've been through."

He scowled deeply and looked over at his woman who was trying on the beard and wig with an adorable smile.

"Come on," he pleaded to her.

"It's all for the children!" Norma Jean said with a soft twinkle to her pretty brandywine eyes.

He eyed the stupid assed costume one final time before snatching it from Carol's hands. "Jesus fuck," he muttered, pushing past them for a room to change.

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He emerged from the bathroom eighty pounds heavier and forty years older, but somehow none the wiser.

"You look perfect," Carol gushed as the three women rushed him, hands moving to adjusted and pull at his costume.

"If I looked perfect then why are you touching me?" He snarled, slapping their hands away.

Storming outside, he stomped into the church and slumped into a pew angrily, waiting for the dumb ass Christmas thing to be over.

Eventually he was joined in the pew by Jesus and an angel, one on either side of him.

Merle beamed at his baby brother, who looked mad as a wet hen under his crown of thorns. "Nice dress."

"Shut up, fat ass!" Daryl-Jesus growled. "Carol pulled in a goddamned favour."

"What kind?"

"Sexual," the angel replied smugly.

"You look like Liberace," Merle pointed out, turning to face the angel and taking in the haze of silver glitter that shrouded the Lieutenant and his white robes.

"I feel like Liberace," the Lieutenant said.

"Couldn't find a woman to play the angel, huh?"

"Mais, this was the more dignified option left," the Cajun said. "At least this costume has a flaming sword."

"What? Why? Are there others?" Merle demanded, basking in the karmic joy that peeked over the horizon of his shame and misery.

"Have you seen the elf and Rudolph?" Daryl asked.

"Shit no!" Merle exclaimed with a deep belly laugh. "Who?"

Behind them the door to the church opened and Cash and Glenn entered, both men looking sullen.

Cash was dressed in a green stocking cap with bells, fake elf ears, a candy cane theme to both his long sleeved shirt and socks, green short pants and vest and little curled shoes with bells.

Glenn had antlers and a red reindeer nose with whiskers on.

Both men looked miserable.

"You look like a dick," Merle exclaimed, sliding out of the pew to join the other men in mocking Cash.

Cash hauled off and punched Merle in the pillow gut.

Laughing it off (this time) Merle turned and grabbed the hem of his brother's robe. "What's under the dress, Darlina?"

"Fuck off, Merle!" Daryl snapped, skirting his brother's reach.

"Go ahead, _beede_," Fay said as Merle's eyes turned on him with wicked intent, "I dare you."

**__..-~-..__**

* * *

**__..-~-..__**

"Now, Layla and Nadir said they don't mind attending, but we thought we'd respect their religion and at least keep the mass to a decent twenty minutes and since it's close enough to Mawlid an-Nabi they don't mind not celebrating since I understand that's what Muhammad asked for his birthday," Mary Claire explained as she wiped down the pews.

Merle was still hiding out in the church, dressed like an asshole, watching as the others grew impatient and uncomfortable in their costumes, when his girl came and flopped down on his lap beaming at him.

She was adorable, but he wasn't pleased with her at the moment.

"Come on, you grumpy bear," she cooed. "It's all for the kids. Those babies have been through hell and they deserve a party like we had."

He shrugged. "Whatever. I better get some loving tonight for this."

"Depends on how good you act the part, because here come your audience," she purred.

He looked over his shoulder as Norma Jean got off his lap.

The children of the convent poured in.

The happy, shining looks in their eyes broke his heart and he sighed, moving towards the chair they had for him to sit in.

Olivia made a beeline for him, leaping into his lap.

"Hi, Santa!" She chirped.

He glanced over at the adults who were pouring in and sighed. "Hi, little girl."

"Aw, he ain't real!" Annie stated loudly, pushing Olivia off his lap to climb into it herself, peering at his face hard, before touching his stump conveniently hidden by a mitten. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but said nothing.

"Don't be a little…brat," he cleaned up his language, eyeing Norma Jean who was giggling beside him. "Or you'll go on my…brat…list." He glanced at Norma Jean to confirm he had that right.

"Your naughty list, Santa," she corrected.

"So?" Annie demanded. "Then what happens?"

"Then I, uh, break into your little shi…uh, home and…break something of yours that you like."

Annie blinked up at him.

"Like her leg?" Olivia asked with wide eyes.

"I love my leg," Annie confirmed. "Hey look!" She shouted suddenly, pointing at Cash, "a stupid elf!"

The girls scampered off laughing, terrorizing Cash instantly, leaving Toby behind to blink up at him from behind his glasses.

"Hey, kid," Merle greeted, patting his lap.

The boy shyly climbed up into his lap and eyed him.

"So, uh…get to the point," Merle snarled.

"I know you're not really Santa Claus," Toby whispered. "But I won't tell anyone, Mister Merle."

Merle scoffed. "Alright."

"Can I still tell you what I want for Christmas, though?" Toby asked. "Just in case you have some pull with the real Santa."

Merle chuckled at the boy. "Sure."

"I know you can't bring the dead back, well, not in a way that doesn't make them fetid and animalistic," Toby began. "But can you give me a good daddy and mommy? Maybe Mister Milton?"

Toby shrugged. "Because he's smart and tells me things when I ask and he doesn't make me feel dumb."

"I'll see what I can do, squirt," Merle said. "Anything else?"

"No, well, maybe let Annie stop having her night terrors," Toby said. "She doesn't deserve to be that scared at night. And give Olivia a princess tiara and make everyone happy and let us grow good crops next summer."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks." Toby slid off his lap and turned to look at Merle with an earnest expression. "Bye now."

"Bye."

Spying the Lieutenant and Daryl pulling Annie off of roughly play fighting with Cash while Glenn shouldered Nadir and spun the boy, Merle got up to join the fun just as Olivia stabbed Daryl with the cardboard flaming sword.

"Olivia!" Grace shouted across the church. "Don't stab Our Lord and Saviour!"

"Dog pile!" Annie shouted over Grace's scolding, attacking Merle suddenly and knocking him off the chair.

He found three kids launching themselves on top of him hard.

"Nadir!" Layla scolded her son who was joining the dog pile.

Merle laughed under the kids as they giggled and sat on him.

"Get off me you little shits!" He hollered, having enough when Clyde and Boo the dogs joined in, licking his face.

"Real dog pile!" Annie shouted dramatically as all three kids ran away in mock fear, the dogs on their heels.

Sitting up, dazed from the experience, Merle found his girl standing over him doubled over in laughter.

"Keep laughing, woman," he growled playfully, getting to his feet with some difficulty.

He stopped all laughter as Judith toddled over to him on wobbly legs, Carl close behind.

The little girl took hold of his pant leg and peered up at him with fearless blue eyes.

"Santa," Carl explained to his sister slowly, hoping she'd catch on.

The girl just stared up at him quietly.

Merle reached down and scooped the brat up with one arm and cradled her against him, still staring at her.

She blinked and then beamed, burbling to him and holding out the teething toy she held in a gummy, chubby hand.

"Gross," he said to her.

**__..-~-..__**

* * *

**__..-~-..__**

By the time the kids had all opened the gifts scrounged for them from local stores, by the time they had played themselves out so much so that they could barely move from where they lay draped over the adults shoulders, the night had fallen and the stars had come out.

Standing out on the church house stile with his brother and the others, the children in their arms blanketed protectively against the Georgian winter chill, watching the stars blaze overhead.

"I don't think I've seen them this beautiful in a long time," Rick murmured, his baby girl in his arms.

"It's nice," Carol added. "Haven't stargazed in so long."

"'s pretty," Annie murmured from Lafayette's right shoulder where she draped, her little hand linked at the pinkie over his back with Olivia who slept on his left shoulder sweetly.

Merle spied Dean nearby, lingering in the shadows and moved towards the boy.

The kid eyed the sky quietly.

"Hey," he said to the boy.

Dean nodded in greeting to him.

"Here," Merle reached into the deep pocket of his Santa pants and pulled out a gift wrapped in newspaper. "For Christmas."

The boy eyed the gift, before taking it. "Thanks."

"Well, it's better than that necklace Norma Jean got you, more practical."

Dean quietly opened the present.

Inside a plain box was a handful of condoms.

"Thanks," Dean said. "I guess."

"Hey, the clap is serious. That shit burns like hell," Merle said. "Be responsible."

"I like the necklace Norma Jean gave me," Dean argued lightly, touching the silver winter tree that hung around his neck.

"Whatever, you'll be thanking me for those rubbers when you get older and better at picking up women."

"Maybe I'll pick up guys," Dean said deadpanned.

Merle frowned up at the sky.

"Or maybe I won't pick up anyone at all and sell these off like prison smokes," Dean went on with a wry grin.

"'atta boy," Merle said, clapping his good hand on the back of Dean's neck and squeezing warmly.

**__..-~-..__**

* * *

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* * *

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**Claire Randall Fraser - I agree. The idea of the world going to hell as badly as it has in TWD and society rebuilding itself intrigues me as well.  
**

**vickih - Hormones, man. They can turn a pussycat into the ghost and the darkness type lions.**

**Yazzy x - *whispers* I ship them too...**

**Brazen Hussy - There you are my spoiled friend. An entire Merle chapter. I hope it fuels the fire for you. ^_^**

**Ciao Bella - Didn't manage a Merle/Grace confrontation, but how about an Andrea/Grace one? And I'm not sure about Rick, maybe...the story is young and there's many miles to go. ^_^**

**Merle's Right Hand - Honestly, dude, I'm just glad you're okay. I was seriously getting really worried. You need to check in, man. I worry like a mother hen. (ps: love you, girl.)**

**Surplus Imagination - I hope to find someone so there's more children soon, otherwise the group will die out and there'll be no one to carry on their clan.**


	17. Death Letter Blues

**__..-~-..__**

* * *

**Milton's Historical Logs #290**

**Sunday, January 25, 2016**

Born late yesterday evening at approximate 7:34 to Grace and Lafayette one male child, mother had some difficulty due to her age, but both came out of it strong and healthy thanks to Hershel and some old fashioned farm birthing techniques. 8 pounds, 1 ounce and 24 inches. Named Lafayette Herschel Vancoughnett V. (Personal note of Milton Mamet, author of this log: the baby boy was named after his father's family name and Herschel who saved both mother and child with a split decision caesarian.)

Blue came to the convent today with word of some strange army truck driving around the area. He said his kids spied only three people driving it, said the back was full of junk and that the side was painted with a large white peace sign and the words 'willing to trade'.

The convent is torn between making contact with these people and eliminating a potential threat. We've finally settled on sending out a small group to meet with them, to feel out these outsiders.

On a personal I've decided to take Toby under my supervision and tutelage. I feel he has the makings of a great scientific mind. I don't want to use the term 'father' but with none of his own left alive, I suppose the role has fallen on me. This decision has nothing to do with Daryl talking to me, encouraging me in his quiet, backwoods sage way to adopt the boy. But…Daryl can relate a great epic without ever saying a word and I respect that about him. He holds his tongue, but he knows the world.

**Current population:** 37 (Blue is still here, so I suppose he counts.)

**Current forecast:** 14º, Flurries

**Current mood:** Irritated (the Lieutenant won't stop bragging about his newborn son.)

**__..-~-..__**

* * *

**__..-~-..__**

****The Lieutenant****

"Naw, she's still out, put her in."

The two men huddled over the crib, Daryl easing his baby girl inside to lie beside the Lieutenant's new son, both daddies smiling down broadly at the two squirming little pot roasts.

"You know, _cabri_—"

"No," Daryl stated. "My girl's smarter than that."

"What are you trying to say, goat-breath?" Fay demanded, still grinning at his son and Daryl's little girl.

"Ain't no girl of mine gonna let no half Cajun spawn touch her."

Even as Daryl said this, his baby girl jerked her little arm out and smacked Lafayette V in the chest.

"Looks like she's the one doing the touching," Fay teased.

"Yeah," Daryl snapped, "she's already smacking your kid into place."

"What are you two giggling about over there?" Carol demanded as she entered the infirmary with an armload of clean blankets for the closet.

"Nothing," Fay said a little too fast, earning a suspicious look from the woman, behind her Annie and Olivia skittered, tip-toeing up to Grace's bed, eyeing her quietly.

Moving to scoop up Annie, the Lieutenant kissed her cheek and said, "she's still sleeping. You two go on out and play now, I'll come and get you when she wakes."

"Is she really?" Annie demanded, critically eyeing her mama.

"When have I ever hornswaggled you, boo?"

The girl turned those critical eyes on him.

Leaning in, he blew a raspberry on the side of her neck, causing the girl to giggle and squirm until he released her to the floor.

The two girls grabbed hands and raced off outside, leaving the adults alone.

"You find people to go meet with those traders?" Daryl asked, his hand in the crib wriggling at his little girl's own chubby digits.

"Of course, always people willing to help out," Carol said. "Now, asking them to do their own damned laundry…"

"Should put a tariff on random work done for others around here," Grace murmured from the bed.

Lafayette was on his knees at her bedside in a flash, head nestling down beside hers on the pillow, hand moving for her hand.

"How are you, my love?" He asked, not even noticing Carol and Daryl slinking out with their little girl.

"My mouth is dry and my stomach feels like a timber wolf tore into it," his girl replied.

He reached for the glass of water on her bedside table and helped her take a drink. "They had to cut into you to get him out."

Grace's eyes widened in panic. "Is he?"

"Fine, he's fine. It's a he, a tiny little, soft boy." He replaced her glass and took her hand again. "I'm sorry, I mean, all this trouble, but—"

"Oh, shut up, bring my baby," Grace waved him in the direction of the crib.

He could tell by the shine in her eyes that she wasn't at all upset about anything, she was happy, she was elated, she was shining bright and he had never seen her brighter.

Carefully he moved to pluck their son out of his crib, bringing him to his mother.

Grace took the baby with a broad grin. "Oh Lord…" she gasped. "Oh, he looks like a little angel! Well," she dropped solemnly, eyeing the Lieutenant, "he looks like you."

"Perfect little _ange_," he teased. "Beautiful like his mama," he lied. Truth was Gracie looked like she went through the wringer a few times and still came out damp. Her hair was sticking up in places, a thin sheen of sweat still coated her pale skin and her eyes had grey bags hanging from them that could knock an elephant on his ass. But to him she was never lovelier holding their son.

Grace was still, eyes on their baby, mouth a thin, taut line.

"You alright?"

"Um-hm, my first baby," she whispered.

"Mine too," he confessed with a small grin.

"I should hope so, you dog," Grace stated with some of her old fire.

Cringing, he laughed and stood up. "I'm going to get the girls in here," he said. "They've been worried about you."

Grace nodded, still unable to tear her eyes away from her son.

**__..-~-..__**

* * *

**__..-~-..__**

Outside he approached the wall, where Merle and a few other stood, rifles and guns in hand.

By the tense posture they held, he got the feeling something was on the other side of the stone, something he couldn't see.

"What's going on?" He asked Andrea who was standing below Merle on the wall.

"Shufflers," Merle said.

Frowning, the Lieutenant hopped the wall and peered down at a mass of rotting corpses quietly.

"We haven't seen any for months," Sister Joan said from the other side of Merle. "Now a whole herd of them?"

"If there's this many," Merle said. "I don't want to shoot them down from the wall, if there's more out there we can't see."

Turning to find Carol striding towards them, rifle in hand, he waited for her decision.

Daryl was nowhere in sight, probably holed up with the baby.

"Chance it," she said. "If there's more, we only have to worry about the gate."

Merle exchanged a look with Sister Joan, before shrugging.

"Cut 'em down!" He commanded the others on the wall.

Leaping down after those on the wall shot down the uggies, he approached Carol.

She looked worried, but only for him, as Glenn joined them, she offered the young man and kind smile.

"Probably just roamers," she assured him.

Glenn furrowed his brow, but didn't argue, choosing instead to go cover the gate in case there were more.

"I wonder where such a large group is coming from," Carol mused to him.

"I don't know, but I can find out for you," he said. "Just give me the order, General."

She smirked at him. "Grace just had a baby, Lieutenant, let one of the others go."

"The only person here who can track is Daryl," he pressed. "Him or me?"

"I'll get Daryl to—"

"Me it is!" He broke in. "I'll get my rifle and get on it!"

Turning at the peach tree, he shouted. "Don't worry, General, I'll be back in time for dinner!"

**__..-~-..__**

* * *

**__..-~-..__**

Sending the girls in to see their mama, he grabbed his pack and Marie, before heading out.

Carol stopped him as he left the dorms, her hands adjusting her rifle on her back, her face grim.

"General," he greeted, moving past her.

She caught up with him.

"Something more?" He asked her.

"I'm coming with you," she said.

He stopped. "I'm torn between arguing that point and keeping my damned Marine mouth shut, General," he continued to tease.

She shifted on her feet. "If we'll be back for dinner…with Grace out, I'm in charge and it's my duty to know exactly what's going on. I can't send you out without offering you back up."

"I'll take Merle, then, or Glenn or Tyreese," he offered.

"You're taking me," she said.

He shifted on his feet. "I don't know…if there's uggies out there…"

"We'll take them down and get to the bottom of this new surge of walkers," she stated firmly.

"Does Daryl—"

"Would I be walking this way with you if he did?" She asked. "Let's get it over fast enough and get home."

"Well," he began, "you know saying it like that…it's a sure sign that something's going to happen…"

"Let's hope it doesn't."

"I feel like I'm in one of those war movies," he confessed as they got Glenn to open the gate for them.

"The General in those is usually some big, burly Idahoan with a cigar in his mouth," she pointed out, eyes on the cattle trail and the woods around them, just in case there were lingerers. "I'm decidedly not that."

"No," he admitted, eyeing the shuffle marks the uggies left in the ground and trying to source out a direction they came from. Uggies moved in packs, so it was safe to say they migrated as a herd.

He motioned them in a direction and they headed into the woods, off the trail, heading west.

"We see an uggie, you let me get it," he whispered to her. "I have the silencer on Marie."

She nodded and moved in close to him, covering his ass.

He paused at more disturbed leaves and motioned them to the north a little, heading for the highway.

They both stopped short at a crashing coming from up ahead and he raised his rifle.

Three uggies came barrel assing out of the woods and he shot them down, but four more followed and he barked to Carol, "climb up a tree, ange, let me handle this!"

She gave him a hard look and took out her knife, running at the uggies.

He shot one down as it made for her, keeping them off her ass as she stabbed two in the face, turning on a third as more poured from the woods.

Running low and not wanting Marie to run dry, he paused long enough to load her, but found them on him too fast, so he used Marie's barrel to knock the assholes down.

Smashing in the face of one uggie, he found Carol launching herself to his rescue, finishing the job.

They both stood back-to-back, ready for another onslaught.

When none came, he paused to properly load Marie, while Carol eyed the bodies.

"Do we keep going or turn back?" She asked him, covering a little girl corpse with a jacket from her own shoulders.

Frowning at the woman who was baring herself in Georgian winter, he dropped his pack to remove his jacket for her, eyeing the woods around them.

"I'm going to keep on," he said, wrapping her up in his jacket. "I want to know where the hell these uggies are coming from."

"We could be traipsing all the way to the Arctic circle for all we know," she pointed out.

"If that's what it takes to figure out just what the hell is going on…"

"We'll hit the highway," she said. "If we can't figure it out by then, we go home."

He nodded. "By your orders, General."

"And knock that off," she suggested, leading him through the woods like she knew what the hell she was doing tracking the uggies.

He smiled and caught her by the upper arms, turning her down the right direction, following the disturbed leaves on the forest floor, allowing her to lead them since she had it in her head to do that anyways.

**__..-~-..__**

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**Merle's Right Hand - No, but you have no idea how much I missed you, girl. You're like a slice of lemon meringue pie on a dark, dreary winter morning.**

**itsi3 - Thanks!**

**vickih - You know they'd make the best leaders anyways. Women get shit done right.**

**Yazzy x - Yeah, I'm the same way. For a big tough guy, Merle really is a softie at heart. Deep, deep down there somewhere...he's got one and it's huge. That...could be taken wrong...I was talking about his heart...his...in the chest...O_O Okay, I'm just going to go stand over here now...**

**Brazen Hussy - If you're happy, I'm happy. ^_^**

**Claire Randall Fraser - Dean is a little Daryl-ish, isn't he? Only, I like to think that the devil on his shoulder leads him more often than not...**

**jaibhagwan - LOL! I had to look that one up! Love it! Perfect! Thanks for the laugh!**

**Ciao Bella - It's funny from a distance...I'd imagine everyone started to head for the hills when Grace came around after that. ^_^**

**Surplus Imagination - Well, I'd imagine with nothing better to do during winter, there were plenty of people volunteering to make costumes...I like to think people are getting cabin fever from just waiting around for spring to plant crops and such.**


	18. Blue Moon of Kentucky

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* * *

**Case Report #370**

**Major Henry O'Hara**

**5th Infantry**

At approximately 0900 hours my men came across an anomaly of curious proportions.

In a shallow grave 50 feet by 80 feet we found a group of what looked like fresh infected, they were bound at the ankles and wrists and tied to each other in one long chain of infected. The old hemp ropes that held them down half rotted, like someone was waiting for nature to take effect and for the brute strength of infected to release themselves.

This location was about 35.5 latitude and 86.5 longitudes in Tennessee, just east of Sinking Creek.

Who is out here? Who does this? Where did these fresh infected come from? Could this have anything to do with the burnt corpses we found in the north?

The woods are eerily still, like something is scaring away all the animals and we still can't find tracks to lead us to the source of these infected.

I've lost contact with one of my patrols to the west, I fear it may have been 'the Skulls' behind this disappearance. They are a lawless group of post-apocalyptic Mad Max fanatics who seem to think this new world is their playground. If contact isn't regained within a month I'll have to accept the patrol as lost and the Skulls responsible.

Met up with a fairly amiable fellow and his family travelling in a beat up old VW bus, called them the Partridges. They appear to be making their living on trading junk for junk, seemed harmless so I sent them south to Georgia. I didn't give them specifics about the groups there, just said they may find trading there.

We set them up with one of our military transports. We have too damned many just rotting anyways. In trade they gave us about forty pounds of .22 ammo and some canned peaches.

Reminds me of Georgia. Think we'll check in on them down south as soon as May comes.

**__..-~-..__**

* * *

**__..-~-..__**

****Blue****

He was returning from feasting on canned meat in the kitchen, heading for the gate and home, when he found a cacophony of noise and arguing coming from the yard.

Shrugging on his jacket, he joined Elise in watching that boy Daryl and his brother have it out loudly.

"What do you mean you just let her go?" Daryl snarled.

Rocking back on one foot, Blue watched those two good ol' Georgia boys have at her, getting in each other's faces, spittle flying.

"I'm not her goddamned daddy, baby bro and you best get out of my face with that attitude!" Merle growled back.

"Goddamned woman should know better!" Daryl shouted, pacing now, eyeing everyone with dangerous, heated eyes.

In Elise's arms Daryl's new baby girl squirmed and began to cry.

Elise hurried the girl inside as the Dixon's continued to have it out.

"How the hell could any of you just let her go out with walkers about?!" Daryl demanded, pointing at them. "You all too chicken shit to head out yourself?"

Sensing the scene getting messy and hearing the word walker, Blue stepped forward, scratching his head. "Now, hold on there, was that was all that shooting was about? I thought you all were testing those door stops of yours."

"Big herd of them," that boy Glenn supplied.

"How big?" Blue demanded, letting Daryl continue to rage, pulling Glenn aside.

"Big enough."

Licking his bottom lip, Blue skipped into a trot, before opening it up into a full blown gallop, heading for the gate.

Jesus, the kids! He thought, not even waiting for them to open the gate for him, but leaping the wall and diving over.

"Mr. Blue!" Someone shouted.

He didn't pause to see who it was, didn't even slow his ass down, just tore through the woods as fast as his old legs could carry him.

Something knocked his ass backwards and he scrambled with it, knowing the smell of rotted meat wasn't anything good. Getting a good foothold, he kicked the thing off him and shot it, before turning his rifle on another creature that was flying at him.

Someone shot another who was creeping up behind him and he whirled to find Glenn standing there holding a rifle, the young man covering his ass expertly.

Without waiting to thank him, Blue motioned for him to follow and the two headed off for the well hidden home and Blue's kids.

They skittered to a halt at the clearing to his home, Blue almost collapsing onto his ass as the sight.

"Oh Jesus," he moaned. "No, no, no, no!"

Nearby a wee walker lifted her ugly face and eyed him with diseased eyes.

Blue collapsed to his knees. "Oh no, no, no…" he wailed.

"Come on, Mr. Blue, there may be some left," Glenn said softly.

"No," he gasped.

The child walker dragged herself closer, hands out for him.

"Mr. Blue, come on, get up," Glenn urged, shooting the girl down mercifully.

"Oh, Lord Jesus! Caroline!"

More child walkers shuffled from around the house and he felt Glenn's hand on his shoulder, tightening. "Don't give up, come on. Let's see if any survived."

"Blue! Blue!" A cherubic angel chirped from high above his head.

He sniffled and looked skywards at the trees overhead. "Where are you, girl?" He demanded, recognizing the voice as Liddy's.

"Up here!" Liddy said. "Everyone else got inside, but I got trapped, I'm up here like a treed possum!"

He smiled sadly. "You surely are, darling. Stay up there, Glenn and I'll get you down, Possum!"

"Hurry, the branch is making snappy sounds!"

Standing up, Blue eyed the child walkers who were approaching him, trying hard to imagine they weren't the sweet babies he loved, raising his rifle.

He shot.

He shot and shot and shot until his rifle went click and nothing moved.

"I can't hold on, Blue!" Liddy shouted. "I'm coming down!"

"Hang on, Possum!" He shouted back, but with several cracks and snaps the girl flopped down hard on him and he struggled to hold on to her.

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder. "I don't want to see anything, okay?" She whispered.

"Okay, darling, come on, let's get the others. We're getting the hell out of here. Glenn, your people will put us up?"

Glenn nodded. "Of course, I'll start burying the kids," the young man said, his voice cracking on the word 'kids'.

Blue thanked him and headed for the house, where he knew the others would be holed up in the cellar.

He stepped inside cautiously, his knife in hand. There was only one walker clawing weakly at the cellar door and thankfully it wasn't one of his children.

Swinging Liddy onto his back, he moved for the thing, ramming his knife into the back of its skull.

It landed heavily on the cellar door, earning a few screams of fright from the children below.

Kicking the foul beast off the door, Blue knocked on it hard. "Ruth, you down there?"

There was no reply.

"Come on, girl, Jesus!"

"She's scared, Blue," someone chirped.

"Buck? You open this door now, it's okay, we're safe," Blue commanded.

Carefully the lock was undone and Buck crawled out, the sweet boy clutching his fiddle case tightly, his face pale, the freckles on it standing out like pepper on mashed potatoes.

"Come on, boy," Blue said. "We're getting the hell out of here."

"I didn't save Cara," the boy whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, darling, you just stand over there with Liddy," he said, poking his head down into the cellar. "Ruth? Get on up here!" He said, unable to see in the dark.

Maddy crawled out, followed by Dawson and Critter, but there was no Ruth.

"She's scared stiff," Critter lisped.

Wiping his snotty nose with his sleeve, Blue sent the boy over with the others and handing his knife over to Dawson, he leapt into the cellar and allowed his eyes to adjust.

Ruth huddled in the corner, quiet, shaking.

"Come on, girl," he said sternly. "We've lost young ones before."

"You were right," she whispered, still trembling. "We should have moved into the convent."

"Aw well," Blue scratched his head. "Maybe now you'll quit goin' around your ass to get to your elbow." He suggested. "But I ain't one to say I told you so, so let's get our tails in gear and head for high water."

"It happened so fast, Blue," Ruthie said, standing up on shaking legs with a lot of help from him.

"Girl," he mused gently, trying to lighten the mood, "you're shakin' like a hound dog trying to shit a peach pit."

"Oh God, did anyone make it from outside?" She warbled.

"Liddy, girl climbed a damned tree. Think I'mma call her Possum from now on," he said.

"Oh, small miracles," Ruth whispered. "Oh God, Blue!"

"I know," he said. "I know, darling. Come on. We'll be alright, we'll pick up our asses and haul them home now."

When they got back to the convent, after burying the children, Blue was exhausted and found Daryl still mad as a wet hen, marching around in an absolute fury, but Merle was nowhere in sight.

As they slipped in the gate with the children all linked by hands, Mary Claire whispered, "I'm so sorry," when she took a head count.

They settled the children in the dorms, in Graces' office in front of her large fireplace, the poor young ones all shivering and frightened from their ordeal, Ruth even worse off.

Blue felt the loss deeply too, but he offered his children kind smiles and playful tickles with a brave face, recovering from his initial pain for their sake.

Buck reached for his fiddle, something that went everywhere with him since it was his daddy's and rosined his bow, before dragging it mournfully across the strings of his fiddle.

"Blue moon of Kentucky keep on shining, shine on the one that's gone and proved untrue," the boy wailed in a real southern twang. "Blue moon of Kentucky keep on shining, shine on the one that's gone and left me blue."

"A woman can't even recover in bed anymore!" He heard someone outside the office declared loudly.

Grace limped in, holding her stomach tightly, her face pale from her journey, that St. James fellow hovering behind her looking disapproving.

Pausing as though she wasn't expecting them in her office, Grace blinked, before sagging against St. James.

"What happened?" She panted gently, weak and looking like she was about to pass out.

"You're out of bed AMA," St. James snarled darkly.

Grace pushed the man away roughly and staggered to her desk, where she collapsed in the chair. "Infected?" She asked Ruth.

The woman was still in shock.

"Yeah," Blue offered.

"Us too, from the sounds of it," Grace said. She coughed and winced, grabbing her stomach again.

"If you pull those stitches I will nail you to that fucking bed," St. James growled. Pausing and eyeing the children sheepishly. "Sorry," he said to Blue.

"Aw, hell no, go on, a good curse word never ruined a child's ears," Blue said, pocketing his hands.

"Mind your foul mouth," Grace panted. "You…filthy…whatever."

"See," St. James replied, "you're in such bad shape you can't even find a name to call me."

"Busybody," Grace murmured. "I'll leave this desk after this place gets back to normal, otherwise shut up and let me sit here."

"Shoot girl," Blue said. "Looks like you're about as busy as a cat on a hot tin roof. Don't think you need to be this busy. Go back to bed."

"I'm fine," Grace said. "Baby's sleeping anyways. St. James, who went out after Carol and Fate?"

"Merle and Cash."

"Alright, bring me Daryl, I'd better calm him down before he rages so hot he melts the remaining glass in my church."

"I'm not your butler," St. James said.

"I'll get him myself then," Grace moved to stand.

"Sit, Jesus, I don't know how the Lieutenant puts up with you," St. James growled. "Miserable, stubborn ass…"

"I heard that!" Grace shouted after him.

"Good!" The office door slammed and Blue winced.

Blue whistled low. "That boy is maaa-aad."

"It gives him something to do," Grace replied. She eyed the remaining children as Buck continued to sing to them. "I'm sorry, Mr. Blue."

"Me too. Mighty nice of you all to put us up, I promise we'll pull our weight."

"I know you will, Mr. Blue, you're a rough, hardworking fellow. I know we're getting the better bargain here."

He flushed a little. "Well shoot, girl, I do what I gotta do to get by.

He didn't add how he felt he let those kids down.

Shit, he felt as useless as tits on a boar.

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**DarylDixon'sLover - What's wrong with them having a girl?  
**

**vickih - Milton taking in Toby was cute I thought, Milton is so a daddy, even if he wants to deny it.**

**Yazzy x - Hehe, Merle's big hands and feet also are important to note. ^_^**

**Brazen Hussy - You know, I don't care how hard Carol is getting on the show, in my stories, she will always give pause for children walkers. And in no way does this mean she deserves to get bit. Gotta keep her human in some ways, right?**

**Merle's Right Hand - You know though, as I was writing the Lt. teasing Carol and calling her General, I got weird sexual vibes about it...like in another world they'd have ended up together and he'd call her General playfully...never mind, just thinking muh thoughts.**

**Claire Randall Fraser - Ooh, girl, sorry...there is some heavy stuff coming up. But as always I'll try to add some levity to it.**

**Ciao Bella - Ah, Elise, I hope this chapter answered your question. She's around, I just have so many characters to try to cover I sometimes neglect a few. ^_^**


	19. Arthur McBride

**Because it's St. Paddy's Day, I decided to post an O'Haracentric chapter (sort of). So enjoy!  
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**Dear Henry,**

We've had a herd of uggies here, my brother and Carol went out to see if they could find out why or where they were coming from.

I think it was a rash decision, but I can understand the urgency. If there's threats out there, people releasing these things on us or…God forbid if they came from some poor group that got taken out from the inside…I don't really think I can handle the idea right now.

The thing is, it's been nearly twenty-four hours since they left and Merle and Cash went after them, but neither they or Carol or my brother have come back. There's enough leftover formula for Scout, but if Carol doesn't come back soon, the formula will only last a month. I hope to God nothing happened to that baby girl's mama. I prayed for the first time ever, I prayed for us.

I'm scared.

I think for the first time in a long time I actually feel unsafe and…I guess you don't want to hear about my problems. Everyone here says they'll come home, they say they can't be missing, but I have a bad feeling about this time. I feel like…I feel like we're due for some bad gris-gris.

Sid delivering this letter says they got some walkers there as well, though thankfully no loss of life on their end. I hope he made it safely to you and I hope that all is well in Tennessee.

I send all my love to you and your men. I hope the winter is still treating you kindly up North.

Love,

Adele

P.S. – Celeste and Landon both miss you. I think Langdon is awfully attached to you. I hope you come and see them both soon. At least Langdon, he's growing so fast.

**__..-~-..__**

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****O'Hara****

Lifting his eyes from the letter, he met the gaze of the blond from Delgado's group, the one who was shovelling canned beans and pork into his mouth from the table of the farmhouse they were bunkered in.

"How long did it take you to get here?" He asked calmly.

"A day and half, hard riding," Sid said. "I was worried infected were going to chew on my ass if I stopped. Didn't see many though. Two, maybe three."

"Any signs of anyone living?"

Sid shook his head.

O'Hara turned to Fredricks who was also heaping some chow on his plate, the Sergeant raised his brows.

He had a serious decision to make. Give up their post here in Tennessee, allow it to get overrun with all manners of disgusting post-apocalyptic rabble or stay and ignore the problems of the convent group in Georgia.

He thought of Adele's neat handwriting, of the words 'I'm scared' and it settled heavily in his stomach. He didn't join up to make his father happy. In the end he joined up to do right, to help people, to ensure they didn't ever need to feel scared.

"Fredricks," he addressed the man.

"Yes, sir."

"Hold our position here with the men, I'm going back with this one."

"No, you're not," Sid objected. "I rode hard here, Digger needs to rest up a day or two. He's earned that."

"Then I'm going on my own, I'll take a jeep."

Fredricks winced. "We ran out of diesel last night."

Sighing, O'Hara plucked on his gloves. "Then I'll walk."

"Here," Fredricks said, tossing a keychain at him. "Take the clunker!"

O'Hara eyed the keys sullenly.

"Or walk all the way to Georgia," his Sergeant added.

"Hard to remain inconspicuous in a diesel piece of crap that rattles and chugs like a damned steam engine," O'Hara said.

"Well," the Sergeant said with a sly grin. "I'll have a rickshaw built for your return and we'll get one of the grunts to tug it for you. Until then, just be careful on the curves."

"Why? Because the doors might fall off?" O'Hara murmured, grabbing his pack and stuffing it full of things he'd need.

"She's the only thing that has a full tank," Fredricks said.

"Because no one is fool enough to use her," O'Hara objected, moving to the door. "Take care of my men, Sergeant."

"Wait up," Fredricks said, catching O'Hara just outside the door.

The two CO's eyed a grunt warily, sending the man who had been outside smoking, back into the building.

"Are you sure you don't want to take some men with you?" Fredricks asked.

O'Hara squinted at the forest surrounding their temporary fortification and shrugged. "Can't spare the men."

"Can the men spare their CO?" Fredricks shot back.

"Probably not," O'Hara said. "But God help us if we lose these allies."

Fredricks shifted on his feet. "Are you sure that's all it is, Hank?"

Uncomfortable to be so familiar with someone, O'Hara kicked at a raised plank on the porch floor and frowned.

"It's just I know that girl back at the convent was—"

"I've done my best to discourage her, Sergeant," O'Hara broke in swiftly. "Not that it's anyone's business. I merely keep in contact with her because she's the one that volunteered to relay our messages to the convent leaders."

"Look, Hank, we're friends," Fredricks said.

This caused O'Hara to snap his head up from the planks of the porch, eyes staring hard at the man.

"We are," Fredricks insisted. "I know you think you live on your own private island, but we've had each other's backs in some pretty hairy stuff, man. I just want you to know that I need you around. I'm capable, but I'm not shit compared to you, Hank. You have to know this. What's that song you taught me that night in Nashville?"

"Arthur McBride," O'Hara said.

"Yeah, we're like those brothers, clubbing dicks over the heads and messing up their shit."

"Those two were cousins," O'Hara said.

"Doesn't matter, small fries," Fredricks said, his hand falling on O'Hara's shoulder lightly, knowing the man hated to be touched.

O'Hara tensed, but accepted the touch. There was really no one he trusted more than Fredricks. Fredricks was safe. Fredricks had never hurt him.

"We're brothers now, Hank," Fredricks said. "I want you to know this. I'll be here for you as long as you need me. So be careful out there, alright?"

O'Hara nodded.

"And take Rhoades," Fredricks added.

O'Hara scowled deeply, eyes glaring blue flames.

Fredricks laughed. "Come on, he's not that bad."

"The man's a timber wolf," O'Hara snarled. "I'd rather drink dishwater."

"Well, that's unfair," Rhoades said, dropping his pack down heavily on the porch beside them.

"How could you possibly know I would be heading out?" O'Hara demanded.

"Saw you two on the porch about to make out, didn't know you were going anywhere, just wanted to bust up the romantic moment," the man clapped Fredricks hard on the shoulder. "Cock block you a little."

"I wouldn't make out with Hank when I'm so into you, Otis," Fredricks said, moving towards Rhoades and pecking him on the cheek.

Rhoades shoved the man hard and laughed. "Get off me you ass!"

"Ooh, I love the rough stuff, Marine," Fredricks cooed.

"Alright, knock it off, both of you," O'Hara said. "You're testing the tensile strength of the DADT policy."

"Want some, Major?" Rhoades teased. "Jealous?"

"Shut up and get in that truck," O'Hara growled.

Fredricks waited for Rhoades, not even knowing what he was doing, to hop into the shitty old Ford they had waiting for them, before whispering. "Try not to kill him, Hank."

"I make no promises," O'Hara said. "I'm only human." He took a step towards the truck in the driveway, then stopped and turned back to his second-in-command. "Take care of yourself, Fredricks." He faltered, frowning.

"It's Danny, sir." Fredricks said.

"Of course, I knew that, Donny," O'Hara teased, his face straight.

Fredricks beamed. "Keep them off your ass, sir."

"And away from the food, _Danny_."

"Kiss him!" Rhoades shouted from the truck.

"No one would know," O'Hara said, "if I did end up killing him."

"For diplomatic reasons with the Marines, maybe you best not," Fredricks suggested.

"We'll see, it's a long drive to the convent."

**__..-~-..__**

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****Carol****

"You ever thought it would end like this?"

They were huddled close together in the darkness for warmth, having finally arranged the old stones under their asses to keep them up from the sludgey muck, the two dead walkers pushed as far from them as possible, piled over the old rusted bucket they used for a latrine.

She sucked the last drop of ketchup from the packet he had given her and tossed it into the darkness. "The handsome Cajun and the well were a surprise."

At the bottom of an old well shaft, they sat expecting a walker to tumble down on them at any moment, expecting someone from the convent to find them soon enough. It had been two days though and no one showed up yet, not even a walker since the first two (which she wasn't complaining about at all.)

She was thankful now for the Lieutenant's oversized pack, for it contained not only food enough to last them a week (granted they were tiny soup cracker packets, some hard, once gummy candy and ketchup), but a couple of water bottles and a flare gun for when they heard voices or shouting.

"What about you? This how you envisioned the end?" She asked, trying to keep the situation light.

He shifted under her in the dark, having put himself under her like a gentleman to take the brunt of the chill and damp. "Well, no, I imagined the end to involve an angry ex-nun. Quite possibly when we return."

"Yeah, I imagine Daryl will blast me too," she said.

"I can't believe you fell down a well and dragged me with you," he teased.

She shoved him hard. "I can't believe you think that's what actually happened, your mind must be getting scrambled without sunlight, because as I recall it, it was your big dumb feet that planted themselves on this rotted wood and tumbled in."

He chuckled. "And you just…appeared in this well with me? Placing blame is hardly the thing to do right now, _ange_."

Smiling against the situation, Carol finished another ketchup packet and tossed it.

"Ah, someone will find us…" he sniffed. "This is the most embarrassing thing to happen to ever happen to me."

"Except for that time you were swimming in tampon boxes and screaming 'I don't want to die like this'," she pointed out.

He poked her ribs and she squirmed. "_Cabri_ has a big mouth."

She laughed.

When the laughter died, she looked back up at the opening above them. "You know, if we had a few more walkers down here, you could stand on them and give us enough extra reach, I could get out…"

"Yeah, and when it rains it would pour, we'd get more than we'd bargain for looking for uggies," the Lieutenant said.

"Better chance than starving down here," she pointed out.

He was quiet, no doubt considering it.

"No," he said. "We'll save it for a last resort before starving."

She was quiet, accepting his decision. Things weren't too desperate yet.

"Can I ask you something?" She asked after a long period of her awkwardly trying hard not to squirm too much on his lap.

"Yep."

"Daryl tells you things, right?"

"Sometimes."

"Does he talk about me? About us?" She asked.

The Lieutenant was quiet, before drawling slowly. "Ye-es."

"Do you think he's…I mean, I know he's not…he'd never make it known, but do you think he's disappointed that we had a girl? He's been…different lately."

"How different?"

It bothered her that the Lieutenant never said anything about Daryl being disappointed in Scout, but she put that thought to the back burner.

"I don't know…it started before Scout was born, he was…not interested in…sex." She quickly added, "sorry, never mind. It's too personal."

"No, now, it's…it's bothering you?"

She shrugged. "I guess, I got used to living like a – forgive the term – nun with Ed. I mean, when we had sex, I'd lay there and think of Kentucky, but I love Daryl and I enjoy sex with him, but lately he's been avoiding it. Am I…is it me?"

The Lieutenant settled his chin on the top of her head. She could practically hear him thinking.

"_Mais_," he said finally. "You have to realize that Daryl was practically a virgin when you two hooked up. I think, I think he's not used to so much physical intimacy. And you're wrong about him being disappointed in Scout, I don't think I met a man who's so devoted to his little girl. He's the kind of daddy I wish I could be."

She smiled. It was a relief to speak with the Lieutenant, even his voice soothed her worries. "You're a great father, Lieutenant. Don't sell yourself short."

He shrugged. "I'm not really," he said. "I don't have enough time for them, I'm…there are much better daddy's out there and Daryl is one of them."

"Well, if we're playing the bad parent game, let's talk about this one here," she said. "Lost my daughter, got her killed, and now here I am in a well while my baby girl lives off of…oh God, I don't know. Formula, I'm hoping."

Wrapping his arms around her tight, the Lieutenant held her and she felt his love. He was a giant teddy bear and his hugs were like blankets fresh from the dryer.

"Okay, no more of that talk," he said. "I don't like hearing you belittle yourself when it's a stone cold lie. Let's change the subject."

She smirked sadly and started in on something that had been bothering her for a while. "You know Andrea saved my life once?"

"Did she?"

"Hm, I thought she died when she did it."

"She's a brave woman."

"But she's trying to stir up shit," Carol went on firmly. "I can't abide that."

"She's worried, I guess."

"She's power hungry and it's really getting under my skin. I can't have someone second guessing Grace and I every time we make a decision."

The Lieutenant was quiet.

"I'm sorry," Carol said. "I'm unloading all kinds of things on you today."

She felt the man smiled into her hair. "No, it's okay, _ange_, you know I like a woman with fire. I'm just…soaking it all in. Despite my mouth always going, I don't like to give opinions or judgements so hastily."

Dropping her hand as he fell silent again, she toyed with the first thing it made contact with, without even thinking about what it was, until he flexed his fingers under hers and she realized she was toying with his hand.

She let go sheepishly.

"Sorry."

He was still quiet and for a moment she thought she embarrassed the both of them by taking his hand in hers.

"If you want," he began slowly, not even mentioning the hand thing, "from now on, when she opens her mouth against you two, I'll be more vocal."

She smiled. "I appreciate the support, but I didn't mean…I wasn't trying to recruit you or anything."

"No," he said. "In the Corps, you talk shit about a superior, you get written up, if that. No, it's about subversive shit stirring. You can't discredit someone's leadership or weaker minds will follow. You and Gracie have every right to be in charge, you were voted in fairly. I'll be your muscle, if you need."

She nodded. "Thank you."

"You know you'll always have my support, Carol," the Lieutenant said, taking her hand without hesitation. "And not just because of Daryl, but…because I've always liked you, _ange_. You're family."

Carol could have sworn the smile she wore brightened the dark well.

"Oo-ye-yi," the Lieutenant murmured. "Those uggies are stinking up the place."

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**Brazen Hussy - Careful, friend, you're treading in dangerous waters talking about Carol that way...  
**

**vickih - Trust me. I had problems...but...yeah, it is what it is.**

**Yazzy x - Always look on the bright side of life...**

**Ciao Bella - Hehe, you lazy toad! (Can't say much more about being lazy though, I've done that before...)**

**Claire Randall Fraser - Sorry, hon. My story was getting too sugary. I need to balance it with some death and darkness.**

**Princess Cruella - Milton is going to be such a cutie, I agree! Now, he needs a mama for Toby...hehe...**

**Surplus Imagination - It did. I'm not going to be a happy person when this story is over, I can tell you that much...**

**itsi3 - Thanks! ^_^**


	20. Down South Blues

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****Cash****

"Captain's log, stardate…whatever the hell day this is in space time. We're out in the wild's of this planet known as Earth, seeking out two possible red shirts who may or may not have been turned into space zombie fodder. I'm commanding this away team with the curt and always miserable Mr. Dixon, a Klingon who seems to have more brawn than brain and an incredibly small dick—"

"Shut up, jackass!"

"I've come up against some hostility from this Klingon, which is not to be unexpected from a race with little patience and even littler balls—"

"I will shove my right hand up your ass and twist it!"

"I'm hoping on this journey into the unknown wilderness of this planet Earth I come across some three breasted alien broad with whom I hope to conquer with my human penis—"

"You are one giant human penis."

Cash chuckled at Merle's rage, keeping up with the man as he stormed through the woods. "Look, I'm not trying to be a dick or anything, but I don't think they made it."

They had been 'tracking' Carol and the Lieutenant for two days and Cash meant every bit of those quotations around the word 'tracking', because in his opinion there was no point in them going around in circles looking for the two.

And Merle wouldn't let them go back, he said his baby brother would only be tempted to go with them when they set out again.

So, here they were, cold and hungry and 'tracking'.

"I like them, I do, but Jesus, two days—"

"Shut your face," Merle growled. "They're not dumb ass kids out in the wild trying to yank a boar's dick, they're out here, just…lost or some shit."

"Lost?" Cash demanded. "The Lieutenant? With all his Marine Corps training? Lost?"

"Look, just shut up," Merle snapped. "We find them alive or we find them dead, but we find them."

"Whatever," Cash grumbled. "I'm fucking hungry though."

"Bitch, eat some bark or something," Merle snapped as they approached the highway.

"I don't think that's healthy," Cash objected, falling on his ass as Merle shoved him down hard. About to protest, he scrambled up, only to flop down again at the sight of a broken down piece of military crap sitting on the asphalt of the highway.

"I don't give a flying monkey's dick if this piece of shit won't run, we keep on!" Someone shouted, their voice ringing off the trees.

Cash huddled up behind Merle, hand on his pistol as a fiery headed man stormed around the side of the vehicle, followed by a chubby mulleted loser and…whoa.

He admired the legs on the woman strutting behind them.

"Jesus, them shorts are so short they're practically inside her," he murmured.

"Fucking beautiful," Merle replied. "Think they took our people?"

"Probably, dangerous lunatics running around these days. But that ain't the truck we heard about, the one with the peace sign."

"Think there's more people running around Georgia than we thought?"

"Maybe they think Atlanta is ripe for the picking too."

"So, what now, genius?" The woman demanded. "We walk? Hope to God we find something that runs on diesel in bumfuck Georgia? In case you haven't noticed, we're in the middle of…well, a forest."

"There's a road," the red headed man grunted. "At the end of this road is Washington. We walk."

"I'm…not really comfortable with that," the man with the mullet said. "No offence, but logically these ugly things are on the rise. It's sort of an ebb and flow effect, like basic physics."

"Don't matter, we march on." The red head declared.

Merle emerged slowly from the bushes and Cash struggled to keep up, following the bigger man's amazingly adroit gait as he stalked through the ditch, his pistol raised in waiting as he approached the three.

Cash kept his eyes open, looking for others, but it seemed there was only three and they looked like they had been down some rough roads.

"Guns down!" Merle shouted, leaping up over the crest of the ditch onto the highway. "Put your guns down!"

Raising his own pistol, Cash kept behind Merle a little (just in case things went to shit) and followed him.

The three by the vehicle, turned on Merle, their own weapons raised.

"Put your guns down! Who the hell are you?!" Merle shouted.

"Balls to that," the red head stated, training his rifle on Merle and dancing around with the man as the others watched uneasily. "You put your weapon down!"

"I'd rather eat a dick," Merle snarled back.

"I got one, if you're interested," the other man growled.

"I feel like we're trapped in a Mobius loop," the mulleted man declared, stepping back towards the truck slowly.

"Who the hell are you? What are you doing in these parts?" Merle demanded.

"Free country last I heard," the woman spat, her pistol wavering between Merle and Cash.

Cash shook his head and motioned for her to keep her weapon on Merle, hoping that would work.

It didn't, she whipped it in his face.

"What do you want with us?" She barked.

"We're—"

"Shut up, Cash!" Merle ordered, eyes still trained on the ginger with the porn 'stache. "We're looking for our people, you assholes wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Don't call us assholes, asshole," the ginger snapped. "We haven't seen your people, just let us go on our way and you go yours, fair?"

"I think you're lying," Merle said.

"Think these are lying too?" The woman asked, grabbing her shirt and tugging it down.

Both Cash and Merle were distracted, which was a waste in retrospect, since she only flashed bra.

The ginger pulled back and let fly before Merle could recover from seeing tit and Cash was on his knees, gripping his bruised balls as the woman took aim on them.

Both men were on the ground and subdued by the ginger and the lady, while the mullet headed chubby fellow stood nearby anxiously.

"Alright," the ginger said lowly. "I'm gonna do you a world of good, shit monkey. I'm gonna take your guns and let you walk. Fair?"

"Fair!" Cash gasped, staggering to his feet, holding his sore balls and booking it for the trees before anyone could do or say anything else.

His mama didn't raise no fool.

**__..-~-..__**

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****Carol****

She had been fighting it for a long time, too long, but her breasts felt full and almost like they were going to burst. A dull ache irritated her deep inside and she knew she couldn't put it off any longer.

In the dark of the well, she eyed the old rusty pail they had been using as a latrine and frowned, shifting on her Lieutenant shaped seat.

"Need some private time?" He joked.

"Yeah, sorry." She stood up.

"No, worries, nature calls whenever she wants," he said jovially.

They stood back to back in the cramped well, Carol awkwardly eyeing the bucket, before tentatively unbuttoning her blouse. She winced and began doing what she needed to do, hoping to God the Lieutenant didn't notice that the sounds of her 'peeing' were different.

"Want me to sing?" He asked.

She could hear the smile in his voice, he had done it before for her and she took him up on the offer.

"Well I'm goin' down south child, this weather here's too cold," the Lieutenant belted out loudly.

She smiled and pushed down her bra, gripping her breast and – for lack of a more dignified term – milked herself into the pail.

"You know I'm goin' down South child, this weather here's too cold. I gotta lay around Chicago, I ain't got change in cold. When I woke up this morning and found my baby gone. You know I woke up this morning found my baby gone. I couldn't do nothing but bury my head in home. Well I was in jail with my back turned to the wall.  
Well I was in jail with my back turned to the wall. Now McKinley is in a free world having herself a home."

Carol sensed the song ending and hurried to finish up, but it took time, she had two days' worth to get rid of.

She thought of her poor baby girl and sighed heavily. All this waste of breast milk and her poor baby was probably starving.

"We need to get out of here," she said.

The Lieutenant stopped singing. "Alright," he said simply. "We'll try that uggie idea you had."

She smiled. "Thank you."

"We have babies to get home to," he said.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, in her worry over her own child, she forgot he was a new daddy and knew what that feeling was like, wanting to be close enough to protect a child.

"You…ah…everything okay back there?" He asked over his shoulder. "Just…not that I'm…I'm not trying to make you nervous, it's just…"

"I'm…it's…embarrassing," she admitted.

"Period troubles?" He asked.

The surprised and concern in his voice touched her, but she laughed. "No…I'm…getting rid of some excess milk."

"What?" He demanded.

"_Breast_ milk," she clarified.

The Lieutenant tilted his head back and laughed loudly. "Oh, thank God! For a second I was…I don't know what I was, I guess I forgot you had that thing going on."

"That breast milk thing?" She teased.

The man was quiet, hands in his pockets, eyeing the darkness before him. "What's it feel like?" He asked suddenly.

"What?"

"You know…milk…coming…out of you?"

She beamed shyly, her face flushing. "Lieutenant!"

"Sorry!"

Her hand was beginning to cramp, so she switched and sighed heavily. "It feels…I don't know…like nothing really. I suppose I only notice when they're full or empty?"

"So it's…not like…taking a leak?" He asked.

She smiled. "No."

"Good. I thought maybe it was something that you opened the floodgates or something."

"It's more like…milking a cow, but don't ever think of me like that!" She stated with a grin.

"Never," he replied.

They fell silent again, Carol switching hands again, the Lieutenant humming to cover the sound politely.

"What's it feel like when you get your period?" He asked.

She opened her mouth, about to admonish him when the sounds of snapping twigs and crunching leaves distracted her.

Carol pulled her bra up and reached for her knife at her side, the Lieutenant grabbing his rifle from where it was propped against the side of the well.

They both waited quietly.

"Should we yell?" He asked.

She frowned at the opening above them.

They waited a little longer, both frozen in their spot, listening, the footsteps above them weren't regular.

"Walker," she whispered. It sounded like it was alone.

"Guess we shouldn't talk too loudly then!" He shouted, voice echoing up the well.

Carol glanced at him, mildly amused.

The shuffling paused.

"Probably should keep your voice down!" She hollered back at him.

"Shh! You'll wake the dead!" He commanded.

The shuffling picked up its pace and soon there was a walker, dangling over the edge of the hole, leaning in, gnashing and growling at them.

"Come on, podna," the Lieutenant called up. "Come down here and get us! We're cold and fresh!"

The walker reached for them like it could scoop them out and like the idiot it was, it reached too far and tumbled down.

Carol and the Lieutenant pressed themselves back against the sides of the well and in the near darkness, they struggled to stay away from the gnashing teeth of the walker, as they also tried to kill it.

She found a flailing arm fumbling for one of them and grabbed it, yanking it behind the thing's back as the Lieutenant ran his combat knife up through the underside of its chin.

The walker dropped with a thud and the two stood in the darkness panting.

"Did it get you?" The Lieutenant asked.

"No, you?"

"No, got lucky," he fell silent almost immediately. "Oh, uh, I know it's dark, _ange_, but…I can see your brassiere."

She glanced down and laughed, pulling her blouse closed. "Oh! Sorry!"

"Let's, uh, leave that part out of the story when we tell it to the grandkids, yeah?" He teased.

Carol chuckled. "Deal."

**__..-~-..__**

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**vickih - Thank you! I'm glad you think it was a great chapter!  
**

**Ciao Bella - Yes, he really does adore her, doesn't he?**

**Merle's Right Hand - Darling, I always know what you mean.**

**Brazen Hussy - My friend, let us agree to disagree. You know I love and respect your opinions! ^_^**

**Yazzy x - I bet it's cold and smells musty. V_V**

**Surplus Imagination - Oh, I hope you took care of yourself after that long week. Take some you time, eat a bagel or whatever comforts you. Get peons to rub your feet! ^_^**

**Claire Randall Fraser - I swear to God you read my mind half the time! Spooky! I had the breast milk thing planned! LOL!**


	21. Waiting Around to Die

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* * *

****Carl****

They had been sent out a day before, everyone still searching for Carol and the Lieutenant, and now Merle and Cash since they didn't return either.

Carl and Glenn had been the last ones allowed to head out on the search.

Grace, in pain from her surgery and mad as hell at the Lieutenant had snarled that she didn't give a damn if that Cajun was found, but Carol's baby needed her.

Carl knew the woman was only fired up, but he still felt a little bad for the Lieutenant.

"Glenn?" He asked as they covered miles and miles of forest together.

The older man glanced at him. "Yeah?"

"You think my dad will…think he'll go back? To how he was?"

Glenn was quiet, tripping a little over a tree as they climbed over the fallen hunk of firewood.

"How he was before all of this or before the stroke?" Glenn asked softly.

His tone was cautious, Carl could tell, people talked about his father cautiously around him and he knew it was because everyone knew his dad was crazy as a shit house rat, but no one wanted to say something so disrespectful in his presence.

"It's okay," Carl said. "You can admit it. My dad went off the deep end."

"He was under a lot of pressure, I guess," Glenn said.

Carl was quiet, eyes on the lookout for walkers or the others, but his mind was on his dad, on his life and as always, on his mother.

"Think I'll go crazy like that?" Carl asked.

Again Glenn was quiet, traipsing ahead of him, leading him through the woods.

"To be honest," Glenn said, "I thought for a while there, you were. When you got cold and…kind of scary."

Carl was the one who fell quiet now, thinking about this. He remembered that period. He was angry, he still was a little, but the pain of his mother's death was dulling with each day and playing with Judith, taking care of his sister, growing up, had soothed some of the ache.

"Am I still scary?" He asked.

Glenn offered him a small smile. "No."

"Think I could lead a group of my own someday?" Carl asked. "When I'm older, I mean?"

Glenn shrugged. "Maybe even this group," he suggested.

Carl shook his head. "No, I want one of my own."

"Why?"

"People here don't think I could make a good leader."

Glenn smiled. "Well, by the time you're old enough, most of them will probably be dead." He winced. "Sorry."

Carl was silent, but smiling gently.

"Think Carol's dead?" Carl asked after a bit. "Daryl will be hard to handle if that's the case."

Glenn frowned. "I hope not. I don't want Carol or the Lieutenant to be dead. Not just because of their babies, but…I like them, you know? We're family."

Falling silent, Carl kept his thoughts to himself. He still didn't really see them as family like Glenn did. He only had two family members and one of them he didn't really care for.

**__..-~-..__**

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**__..-~-..__**

****The Lieutenant****

"Do you miss your grandmother?"

They were still down the well, still waiting to see if they would get another uggie or if someone would find them and they were beginning to really dig into the conversation topics. The further they dug, the deeper and more honest their conversation got.

"Yeah."

"How'd she…I mean, it wasn't this, was it?"

He smiled sadly. "No, she had cancer, stomach cancer. It took her a long, long time to pass. What about you? Your parents?"

Carol shifted in his lap and sighed heavily. "I like to think they're still alive somewhere, but realistically, they probably died during the first wave of walkers."

"Not very close?" He asked.

She was quiet, thinking of the last phone call her mother made to her. "Ed sort of…we grew apart in the last few years leading up to the walkers."

"Daryl told me some of what Ed was like, but…how bad was he?" The Lieutenant asked, hugging the woman a little tighter. He didn't want to dredge up the past, but he wanted to fully understand Ed from the woman's own perspective.

Carol was quiet and for a moment he was afraid he overstepped his bounds with her.

"You know, it's…I'm sorry, _ange_."

"No, Ed was…well, you know, I was getting older and not getting any prettier, so I…settled."

"You really don't think you're as pretty as you are, don't you?" He asked.

She shrugged. "I'm alright. Daryl thinks I'm pretty, that's all that matters."

He playfully poked her ribs to get a squeal from her and earned himself an elbow in the gut. "Ah, _possede_!"

"Try that again, Lieutenant, and I'll flay you," she teased.

Rubbing his stomach, hand moving against her back as he did so, he smiled "You know, I've been thinking, you call me 'Lieutenant'…"

"Yes."

"Seems a little…impersonal, don't you figure?"

Unbeknownst to him, the woman in his lap was beaming impishly. "Is it? Maybe that's my pet name for you? And it only so happens that it's your rank."

"Aw, honeychild, you do care!" He gushed.

They laughed in the growing dark of the waning evening light.

"You know," she said, looking up above them. "I think…if you could get me even close to that piece of stone that's sticking out. I may be able to pull myself up and out…I've been eyeing it all day. I think I could do it."

He followed her finger, leaning in to look down her arm. "I don't know, _ange_, looks like it's just sticking out, could pull it down on my head."

"I would never do that," she gasped, adding playfully, "without provocation."

He angled his head, nose bumping hers and eyed her slyly.

She smiled back at him and fluttered her eyelashes.

Chuckling, he pulled his head back. "Alright, you want to wait until morning to try this or…"

"There's enough light, let's give it a try," she said, getting up and moving the uggies so they stacked one on top of the other, until all three were stacked enough for him to stand on them.

He stooped for her to climb onto his back and for an awkward moment he was very much aware of her breasts pressing on either side of his head. He chuckled like a kid and struggled to keep her up.

"What?" She demanded.

"I'll tell you later, ange," he replied, giving her a hitch and then bracing as she settled her boots on his shoulders.

Slowly he stood up straight on the uggies, wobbling, but managing to use the wall to prevent toppling.

On his shoulders, Carol inched up the wall, reaching for the stone that stuck out.

Then, Lafayette felt the uggie beneath his boot shift and his whole foot plunged into it's side, coating his leg in goo.

"Yech, fucking Jesus!" He cursed, sinking down.

On his shoulders Carol grabbed the stone, but as predicted, it pulled easily from the earthen wall it was lodged into and came crashing down, smashing the same uggie he was caught in, sending more goo splattering up on him.

Carol followed the stone soon enough and they both crashed hard onto the gross, swampy well bottom.

Covered in uggie ick and sludge, Lafayette groaned. "You alright, _ange_?"

She sighed heavily. "Yeah. Did the stone get you?"

"No," he said, grinning, "your aim was off."

She laughed. "I'm sorry I missed."

He sought her ribs and poked them again, earning another elbow in the gut.

**__..-~-..__**

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****Merle****

"That little shit can run pretty fast with bruised nuts."

Standing before the three strangers, glaring at Cash's ass as the man ran away, Merle scowled and shifted on his feet. "He's a goddamn embarrassment."

"I'm sorry," the woman said.

Eyeing the three of them, Merle refused to turn tail and run.

"Look," the ginger said. "Just get going."

"I'm not really a turn tail and run type," Merle said. "Why don't you three get moving and I'll just stand here?"

The ginger shifted on his feet. "I'm not going to do that."

"Well," Merle said. "We could all just stand here adjusting our dicks until we die, then." He paused and glanced at the woman. "Except Slick Tits over there, she can drag those sweater puppies out again if she wants. I wouldn't mind."

The woman gave him the finger, her face stoic.

"Hey, you're the one throwing your breasts out for the world," he replied, laughing. Rocking back on one foot, he sighed.

"That's a hell of a blade you have there," ginger said suddenly.

"Want it shoved up your ass?" Merle snapped.

Holding his hands up, the man acquiesced. "I meant no offence, just haven't seen anything like that since Lee Majors roamed the earth."

"Back in the seventies where you got your moustache, huh, Red?" Merle grunted.

Sucking air in through his teeth, the man eyed Merle flatly, before saying. "Least I can tie my own shoes without losing a toe, turd burglar."

"Oh, Jesus, is this going to going on for much longer?" The woman demanded. "We have places to be, Abe."

Merle laughed. "Better get going, _Abe_, might miss the early bird special down in Boca Raton."

The man squinted at Merle, his face growing dark and dangerous.

Laughing, Merle boldly turned his back on the three and headed off in the direction Cash had run, still chuckling to himself.

"Wait!" Mullet head called after him.

When Merle turned, the man was still standing near the ginger Abe, his face looking openly panicked.

"What?" Merle snapped.

Licking his bottom lip, the man stuttered, "you, ah…we need a vehicle of sorts."

"And?" Merle barked.

The man looked nervously at his companions, the other two eyeing him with steely gazes.

"It's just…with these infected walking around again…um, we need something."

"We don't need shit," Abe growled, still eyeing Merle warily.

"I'd like shit," mullet said. "I'd really like shit right now."

"We don't need his help, Eugene," the woman snarled.

Merle eyed the man, before saying, "tell you what, _Eugene_, we're looking for two of our own. You find a silver haired woman and a dumb looking Cajun following her around like a puppy before nightfall and I'll see about helping you out with your little problem."

"We don't need your help," the woman stated.

It was ginger who took a small step forward. "Missing people, huh?"

"Abe," the woman began.

"No," the man said, taking another step towards Merle. "We'll help you out, find your people, but we want more than just transportation."

"Like?"

"Food and ammo."

Merle eyed the man. He didn't like how much he kind of liked the look of the man. Seemed…well he seemed like someone Merle would normally like as a drinking buddy.

"Fair enough, but after that you get the hell out of our territory," Merle said.

"Deal, anyplace we should meet up with you if we find these people?"

"If they're alive, they'll know where to go."

"You'd best not double cross us now," the man said.

Merle smiled. "I would never."

"That's a crocodile smile if I've ever goddamn seen one," the man pointed out.

"Find my people, that's all that matters right now," Merle said. "Woman's got a baby she needs to get home to."

The man's hardened face softened a little and he said, "a baby?"

"Little girl, only a few months old, needs her mama."

The woman stepped forward too. "You have children in your group?"

Merle just nodded. He didn't want to say too much to these new people.

"Do you have someplace that's safe?" Eugene the mullet asked.

"Just find my people, mullet-head."

"And if we don't find them by nightfall?" Abe asked.

"Then you're free to get the hell out of our territory," Merle replied.

"Friendly," the woman snapped.

"Cautious, Slick Tits."

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**Brazen Hussy - Well, at least we agree on Merle love!  
**

**Merle's Right Hand - Shortsey McGee, I think you have a new nickname, darling!**

**Ciao Bella - I don't know...I love Noah, but I'm still not sure. Abe and the others sort of fell in naturally...maybe at some point? I'll think about it.**

**Yazzy x - I'm sure they'll find a way out...I hope...**

**vickih - It's Merle...I'm sure a pair of tits would distract him in a hurricane.**

**Claire Randall Fraser - Farol...I think I enjoy that mash up ship name! Sounds like payroll...hehe...and yes, I want Merle and Abe. They'd be the best of frienemies.**

**itsi3 - Cash and Merle are the best bromance.**


	22. Redemption

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* * *

****Grace****

She was desperately trying to keep the place from falling down around their ears.

Nursing her newborn son, trying to keep Daryl from packing up and heading off after Carol, trying to save Andrea from proving herself right about Carol and Grace's leadership by acting like nothing was going to hell in a handbasket.

There came a point, when Daryl quietly entered her study, holding his baby girl, that she thought he was just going to dump the child in her lap and go, but to her amazement, he lingered, looking unsure, looking confused and lost.

Grace allowed him to stay and he took up residence in her comfy armchair, holding his little girl and quietly assessing the children from Ruth's group that also haunted her study.

And Blue, hovering behind Ruth and the kids, the sweet man offering every hour on the hour to go out and help look, not sure what to do with himself now that his kids were there and safe, now that the number was diminished.

Grace tried hard to encourage him to mourn his loss, but he wouldn't, he seemed to be trying to ignore the fact they lost so many little angels.

Daryl didn't go far from her now, he seemed so unlike himself that she worried more for him than for the pain in her abdomen from the invasive caesarian.

God help them all if her son turned out like his damned father! That irresponsible Cajun!

She was ready to turn in for the night, Lafayette five or Five as it seemed the rest of the group had taken to calling him, was just put down in his crib in her room, Daryl had slunk off to his ramshackle home with his girl and everyone seemed asleep, when Rick entered her study.

Grace gave pause, because he looked so unlike himself, and yet so much like he once was.

"Rick," she greeted as the man slunk to her desk, eyes on the pistol at his side.

He shifted on his boots.

"Have you come to reclaim leadership?" She teased, her tone had a bite to it from worry and lack of sleep.

Behind her, from his perch on her credenza where he seemed to have taken up permanent residence watching over her like a mother hen, St. James snorted.

Grace waved the man off, but as per usual he ignored it, going back to the book he had been reading. The pain was lessening, it only hurt now when she moved wrong, if she held herself right there was no stretching of her muscles.

"No," Rick returned.

Waiting for the man to spit it out, Grace sighed and gently eased back against the chair. "Rick, honey, I love you, but shit or get off the pot."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm heading out."

Grace looked up from where she was rubbing a finger over the leather blotter of her desk. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm going to look for them."

At that moment, she spied Daryl slink back into her study, free of his little one, having put her down for the night.

"For who?" Daryl growled.

"Carol and the Lieutenant," Rick said.

"There's already enough people out and about, Rick," Grace said. "Honey, I don't want you out there."

"I'm not asking your permission," Rick said. "I'm telling you."

"I'm not saying you can't," Grace insisted. "I'm only saying that I don't want you out there. You're still recovering," she glanced over her shoulder to where St. James sat reading his book, eyes above the pages.

Their eyes met and she quirked a brow.

St. James closed the book with a thump and eased down from the credenza. "Rick, we have enough able bodies, you're still in recovery."

"I'm fine," Rick declared.

"Just let him go," Daryl said, flopping exhaustedly onto the comfy armchair. "Hell, why don't we all just go and run around like drunks trying to find our own assholes."

Grace got to her feet slowly, shoving St. James away as he moved to help her. "Rick, I'd advise you not to go, but I can't stop you."

"I can," St. James said. "Just let me get the Ketamine."

Grace cast him a chiding look, before turning her eyes back on Rick. "If you go, please take someone with you?"

Rick nodded.

"And be careful, please?"

Again the man nodded, moving in a kissing her temple, before pulling away and leaving the study.

Grace turned to Daryl who shrugged, then to St. James who tsked at her.

"Oh, don't cluck your tongue at me," she declared. "You're worse than an old woman."

He tsked again.

"Daryl, honey," she sighed. "Are you sleeping there again tonight?"

The man nodded sullenly.

"Is Scout in with mine?" She asked, making her way slowly to the door.

"Yeah."

Grace nodded. She didn't mind watching both babies, Scout was a sweet thing and Five seemed attached to her already, squirming and fussing more when Scout wasn't near.

"Grace?" Daryl called after her.

She paused at the door.

"Need anything?" He asked shyly.

She offered him a plastic smile. "No, honey, you get some sleep."

He nodded grimly.

"And try not to leave boot prints on my chair tonight," she griped, heading out into the hall.

Using the wall to support herself, she stubbornly refused St. James as he once more tried to help her.

"You hover over all your patients?" She snapped softly, trying hard not to wake those who were already asleep.

"Grace, do you know how long women need to rest after a caesarian?" He demanded. "You shouldn't be pushing yourself and you know it."

Reaching her room, she opened the door carefully and stepped inside.

St. James followed her right inside boldly and despite her protests, helped her get changed for bed.

Halfway out of her blouse, she winced as her stomach muscles pulled against the staples.

"You know," she said, hoping to cover her wince, "if Fate finds out you've seen me in my altogether, he'd have to kill you with his bare hands."

St. James smirked. "I'm a professional, Grace."

"I didn't know you could get a degree in being a nuisance," she replied archly. As the man with the medical degree helped her into her nightgown, she allowed him to finally help her completely, knowing that otherwise she'd really be in a mess. "Why are you such a nuisance anyways?" She demanded, pulling on her robe and sliding her feet into her slippers for the cold, long walk to the bathroom to brush her teeth and such before bed.

"You don't become a doctor for the money," he teased.

She smiled wryly and pointed at her shower kit for him to grab.

"Honestly," he whispered, following her down the hall, "I wanted to help people. Take care of them. Maybe save some lives."

Pausing for a moment as her stomach muscles twinged painfully, she rest against the wall and huffed.

St. James placed his hand on her elbow gently.

"You want to mother someone," she teased, "you should have had a child. At least they'll let you boss them around."

He was quiet, helping her into the bathroom and closing the door behind them.

"I had one once," he said after a few seconds.

She looked over at him in the dark of the bathroom. "Oh, honey," she gasped. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry."

"He was three when this all happened."

Falling back against the door a little as the day finally hit her and she staggered in exhaustion, she whispered. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's okay," he assured her, hand firmly on her elbow to keep her upright. "A lot of people lost their children. It's just…how it is now."

"You…" she bit her bottom lip. "Is that why you keep so close to me and Five?"

He smiled bashfully. "No."

"Or Adele and Celeste and Langdon?"

St. James shrugged. "Mothers and babies," he sighed. "Nothing more innocent and sweet than that." He helped her to the sink and stood behind her as she ran the water to wash her face. "I wasn't…they needed me at the base when…I got home and Danielle was…there wasn't much left of Kyle, he…she had turned first. I guess she didn't know, no one did. It happened so fast, we...if she knew, she wouldn't have locked herself inside with…I wasn't there."

Grace was quiet, looking at the man in the mirror as he stood behind her.

"I thought…for his first two years I thought I was…I did good. I was a good father, I…I think I was, but…" he broke off shaking his head firmly.

"Does anyone know this?" Grace asked him gently. "Have you told anyone?"

He shook his head, tears forming in his eyes.

She turned to face him, hand falling to her stomach. "You keep a lot inside, don't you?"

He shrugged. "Who cares?"

"I care," she said. "Everyone here seems to care genuinely about everyone else, honey…we care about you."

"I don't care about me," he said. "I was too much of a coward to kill myself…I…I didn't want to become one of those…I tried to…I had a pistol in mouth and…no." He shook his head. "I'm here to care for others, but I don't matter. These babies matter, you mother's…women, the wombs of the world, giving birth, keeping us going as a species, you matter, but not me. I'm just here because you're good people and…I travelled for a few months with those…the things they did. They were vile, vicious demons prowling the earth consuming souls, they…this place is…unlike any other. We do God's work here, we…we haven't given in to the viciousness of humanity. Not yet. Not ever if I still have a breath in my body."

Grace took his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, honey, we've become a family and you are very much a part of this family." She pulled him down and kissed his cheek, hand moving to wipe away the unfallen tears. "Now, help me brush my teeth, because I feel like a rag doll whose stitches are about to give."

"That's kind of what you are," he snarled, sliding easily back into his neutral tone, picking up her toothbrush and applying toothpaste to it.

Grace kept her eyes on him the whole time, studying his face. She had never really paid any attention the man, he had come to them from a horrible group, the only decent one aside from Adele it seemed and…she really began to wonder about the others. The lives they lived, the past the left along the roadside, the memories, both bad and good.

God strike her down for being so self-absorbed. She was failing in her duty as a nun, even if she was a former-nun, she still felt that urge in her to do God's work.

What St. James had said, about them remaining good among a sea of wicked vipers resonated with her. Maybe that was something to uphold. That was what would set them apart. Show mercy and compassion, but spare no evil in their land.

"I never really got to thank you, Grace," St. James broke her thoughts with his rough rasping, dark velvet voice. "For allowing me to stay here."

She smiled at him encouragingly. "Well, your good heart and God's grace led you here. You got inside these walls all on your own."

"Not so much of a good heart," he murmured. "The things I let slip by in Martin's group…the things those men did…I'll never get them washed off me. I'm a coward."

"A coward is a man who runs and keeps running, honey," Grace objected. "You slowed down, you gave pause and you changed direction. We can't all be foolhardy and self-sacrificing like Lafayette or quiet and strong like Daryl, those of us who weren't forged in hellfire are strong in our own ways. Carol takes strength in bearing a child, despite this world already claiming one, Rick is strong because he's off to face his demons, Carl faces the world with such determination, Milton geared up and made a long, dangerous trek here on his own to get help for his people, Herschel lost everyone he loved and yet he keeps on with a smile. Strength isn't measured in the gun you tote or the lives you take, but in keeping your feet on the ground and marching on, despite the weight that gets added to your shoulders. You keep marching on, you keep kind and good and that takes strength. It's easy to sin, the hard part of life is not giving in to cruelty or base desires."

St. James was quiet.

Smiling, Grace huffed and leaned against him heavily. "I'm sorry, I'm getting so tired."

He supported her gently. "Let's get you to bed."

**__..-~-..__**

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**itsi3 - Unexpected goo is always gross. ^_^  
**

**daisylou2013 - I probably shouldn't talk about the two people who've already requested a Carotenant(?)Farol(?) smut oneshot on tumblr, hmm? I also shouldn't mention I wrote one and it's over there somewhere...**

**Claire Randall Fraser - I also love their friendship. They've always had this weird understanding and I didn't even intend for it to happen...**

**vickih - I always think it's funny how boobs can get in the way...those pesky, squishy things...**

**Yazzy x - I'm working on more Merle/Abe interactions...I also really, really want Milton and Eugene to meet and interact...**

**Ciao Bella - I like to imagine Cash decided escaping was more important than dignity or ball safety...**

**Merle's Right Hand - Shortsey McGee may or may not be my new petname for you...**

**Brazen Hussy - Merle needs a bestie like Daryl and Fay...he needs an epic bromance.**

**Surplus Imagination - I'm beginning to feel like the Lt. will flirt with anything...**


	23. Let It Be

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* * *

****Grace****

"We need to talk."

She had just finished feeding Five and making sure Scout had what was left of the formula.

They were watching the girl close to see if there were signs of malnutrition because the formula was technically way past it's best before date.

So far Scout seemed to be doing fine on it, but the formula was gone, it was no more and before nightfall they'd need something else.

Now, she had entered her study with the babies in both arms, about to set them down in the crib placed there by Daryl, only to find Sister Ruth sitting behind her desk looking dour.

"About what?" Grace asked, moving to place the children in their crib.

"About getting you back on your road," Ruth said.

Quirking a brow, Grace tucked Scout's little hand to herself as the infant flung it in Five's face and sighed. "What road?"

"The one to salvation."

Standing up, Grace expected nothing less from the woman, though she was hoping the conversation would come at a better time.

"Ruth—"

"You've strayed far, Grace, I'm only trying to bring you back to the flock."

"Ruth," Grace insisted firmly, not allowing her to get anything out. "A shepherd can't join a flock of sheep. You mind your place or you will be out among the wolves. Now I have brought you and yours into my convent – yes, mine – because you needed some mercy and compassion and I am still a woman of God."

"You've gone so far from the path of God—"

"I am doing God's work!" Grace snapped.

"You've taken a man to your bed and where is he? Lord knows, he probably ran off with that woman."

"And our bed is none of your business, nor is the fornication we perform there nightly. I am still a woman of God and I am still doing His work and my pride and arrogance didn't lose me any of my flock."

"Except the two missing, the other two after them, the two after those two," Ruth returned coolly.

Calming herself, Grace took a mental step back and a physical step forward to place her hand on Ruth's shoulder.

"Sister Ruth," she said calmly. "You've had a hard seventy-two hours. I know you're exhausted, I know your back is sore and your mind is in a jumble. Maybe you should go take a rest with your little ones and try to find some peace."

"My heart will never know peace until I set you—"

"Sister Ruth—"

"These other sisters here are too soft on you! I am ashamed of what you have become! The leader, the guide, the beacon of light for us at this convent and you've fallen so far, so fast."

"Maybe I've pulled my head from the clouds and fallen back down to earth, Sister," Grace argued. "God is not some man sitting in the sky judging us. He's here, he's inside all of the good we do. When we raise a hand for good, it's God moving the limb. I may have abandoned my vows, but I am still serving Him and I am still spreading his message of peace and love. It may be hard at times and yes I've fallen in love with a man, but I am also mere flesh and blood and I find peace with him by my side. The God I worship wouldn't care one bit if I loved while my time on this earth ticked by, He created us and He knows we need love to thrive."

"You're just making excuses for your sins," Ruth snarled.

"And you're tired and under severe stress," Grace shot back, squeezing Ruth's shoulder kindly. "Go to bed, Sister. Please get some rest?"

Ruth seemed to hesitate, before she dropped her chin and closed her mouth. "I'm sorry, Grace…you're right, I'm…I'm all fired up and spouting off at the wrong person."

Smiling at the woman as she turned tail and left, Grace kept the plastic emotion plastered on her face for only a fraction of a second after the door closed, before sighing heavily and padding to her desk to toe off her shoes, before heading over to the crib to peer down at the infants sleeping there.

Scout was sleeping with her head turned to Five, her little arm up and resting between them over top of Five's. The two cherubs sleeping.

Holding her stomach staples, she leaned over carefully and stroked a finger down Scout's soft little baby fat arm.

Five warbled in his sleep and she frowned.

The door to her study opened and careless little feet thumped over the floor, heading for her.

"Came to say 'hi'!" Annie chirped, wrapping her arms around Grace's waist, Olivia skidding to a halt on the study rug.

"Shh," Grace warned. "Say 'hi' softly, sweetheart."

Olivia stood on her tiptoes to peer into the crib, her little hands gripping the railing of it like a prisoner in a jail cell. "Babies sure are ugly," she pointed out.

"You were one once," Grace said.

"Blerg," Olivia replied.

"Hi, ugly babies!" Annie greeted loudly, jumping up onto the crib and peering down like a hungry vulture.

Shooing the child off the crib for her own safety, Grace huffed as Five began to whimper, before squalling, his little face scrunched up.

Tsking, she shooed the girls towards the door.

"Now you've woken them, you little troublemakers," she said. "Go on to your lessons now!"

Annie and Olivia giggled evilly as they scampered out the door.

"You little shits best watch your behaviour," someone drawled from somewhere near Grace's desk. "Or I'll tell your daddy."

Annie and Olivia continued to laugh out the door, slamming it hard behind them as Grace made for the crib, scooping up Five, just as his fist knocked Scout in the face.

The little girl wriggled, then squirmed, but thankfully slept through the crying as Grace managed to sooth her son quickly, scooping him up and bobbing him in her arms, watching as Daryl emerged fully from under her desk.

"How long have you been here?" She asked.

"Under your desk or on God's green?" Daryl returned, moving to check on his little girl in the crib, standing beside Grace.

"Did you hear—"

"I heard everything," he said. "That Ruth has a voice like a tornado siren."

Daryl was quiet for a moment, studying his feet, before he said almost impishly. "Fornication nightly, huh?"

She flushed. "It was heat of the moment, you!"

They fell silent, Daryl reaching down to stroke his little girl's cheek with a rough finger, while Grace cooed to her son.

"Been spending too much time with Fay, I guess," Daryl explained after a moment.

"That man would put the devil in anyone," she replied.

"Puts the devil in you nightly from the sounds of it," Daryl murmured.

Gasping in shock at his joke, she stood for a moment unsure how to react.

His sheepish shrug had her laughing softly.

"You used to be such a sweet man," she joked.

He was silent, still gingerly touching his little girl's hand, her fingers curling around his finger in her sleep.

"How much—"

"None."

Daryl nodded.

"I'm amazed you haven't taken off after them yet," Grace said, turning to return to her desk, easing down carefully with her son, minding her pulling wound.

"Girl keeps me close," the new daddy said. "Can't let her lose both parents."

"That girl isn't going to lose either one of you," Grace insisted firmly. "You know Lafayette would rather risk his own fool head then let anything happen to Carol."

"There's nothing that would keep Carol from her little girl," Daryl said. "Except—"

"Lord, I didn't take you for one of those roll over and die types, honey," Grace broke in quickly before Daryl could finish his thought. "Is that why you've been moping around here? Honey, you are a strange duck! Carol is just fine, she's hung up somewhere, but she is just fine and that man of mine he's watching her back, he's getting her home, he may be many things, but he is selfless and stubborn and Carol is tough as nails, she's a fighter, a she-wolf, she'll be home soon enough."

Daryl was quiet, his hands were together now, one picking at a hangnail on the other, bottom lip worried between his teeth, eyes solemn and on her.

Grace quietly soothed her son, hand rubbing his back. She still found amazement in the fact that at her age, with the path she thought she had chosen, she had a child that was her own flesh and blood. It felt like a part of her had broken off and was floating away, it was both beautiful and frightening thinking about that. Her son would grow up –with the grace of God – and he'd become a man with thoughts and beliefs all his own. He was a little human being that she made, that she created. That she and Fate created out of love.

She knew she'd have to confess pride to Father O'Rourke, because she felt nothing but pride for her son, for the family she had.

Standing across her desk was a part of that family, the brother of her husband in all but blood and he looked tired and he looked worried and it broke her heart.

"Oh, honey," she cooed. "I know. It's easy to say they're okay, but…I know. Out there, these days, anything could happen. But remember they're together and they're both so strong."

"And what about Scout?" Daryl asked. "Can't feed her without formula or her mama."

Grace nodded. "I know. I—"

"I swear you've begun ducking me," St. James said, pushing into the room with a sweeping force. "Thankfully—" he stopped short seeing Daryl and stepped back. "Sorry. I was…am I interrupting anything?"

"Since when do you care?" Grace teased. "Come in, honey, we were just discussing Scout."

St. James stepped into the study and approached the crib worriedly. "Why? What's her symptoms?"

"No…we ran out of formula this morning. I wouldn't even know where to begin to get some…Blue said he'd run to Atlanta if he had to, but…that's so far and…she'll need to eat—"

"It's not encouraged," St. James began tentatively. "In fact a good doctor would warn you against it, but…if Carol may be gone some time…if you produce enough milk, Grace…"

"Herschel told me it wasn't good for the baby," Grace said. "I've already—"

"Well, starving isn't good for her either." St. James replied. "She'll get sick during her adjustment and if Carol returns I wouldn't recommend jumping back to her milk one change in diets will probably be enough for the little one…you may want to think about it."

"How sick will she get?" Daryl asked.

"Vomiting, diarrhea," the Air Force medic pocketed his hands as he stood by the crib. "But we'll be sure to keep her electrolytes up and get her through until her body adjusts to Grace's milk. But I wouldn't suggest volunteering, Grace, unless you're sure you produce enough milk for two babies."

"Jude, honey, don't you stand there and bald face act like you haven't see the copious amounts of milk I have to express on a daily basis," Grace said. "For the love of God, honey, Lafayette won't beat you down for seeing my altogether. You had to give me a gynecological exam three months ago, you've seen everything."

"I'm under hypocritical oath, I can neither confirm or deny that—"

Sister Mary Claire burst in, her brown eyes bright with elation. "Mother Superior! Mister Delgado's at the gate with some people, says he heard about our missing people! He wants to help!"

"Carl and Glenn," Daryl murmured. "That boy would head straight for Ryan's help."

Grace eased her sleeping son back into the crib and asked St. Jude to watch over the babies, before heading for the door, holding her stomach and moving as fast as she could, which wasn't very fast at all.

Daryl moved at her side, politely hovering nearby in case she toppled.

"We just heard," Delgado greeted as she approached them in front of the church.

Grace smiled through the pain of her over exersion and pulled the man down for a gentle hug, making sure to touch each and every one who came with him kindly, letting them know they were as good as kin.

"Thank the Lord for you, Corporal," she panted. "We've been…so scattered."

Delgado beamed at her. "Don't worry. We'll find them. Which direction did they head last you saw?"

"No, Corporal, we…there's been those…things out there lately and—"

"Don't worry about us, Grace, we're here, let us help." Delgado said. "None of these people with me were forced to come."

"We wanted to help," Gwen stepped forward. She frowned and peered down at Grace critically. "Did you…was it a C-section, Grace?"

"Yes."

Gwen's eyebrows rose. "You…shouldn't be out of bed…your stomach muscles—"

"I appreciate your concern, but I have a convent to run," Grace protested.

"You'll run yourself into the ground doing that," Gwen said. "Nope, you're going to bed, come on. Eve and Vivian came with me, we'll watch the babies while you rest."

"It's not just…"

"No arguing," Eve insisted, tweaking Daryl's chin on her way past the man. "Hi, daddy. Don't worry, we're here now. Everything will get better."

Daryl flushed and followed the women inside, but Grace didn't miss the small, sad, but proud grin that teased the corner of his mouth.

**__..-~-..__**

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**Brazen Hussy -Don't think I've forgotten about Merle...**

**vickih - I'm hoping Rick will settle back into a normal, sensible Rick. Hoping...**

**Yazzy x - Milton and Eugene forever!**

**itsi3 - Yeah, those two in a well, with no way out...kind of a random shitty situation. I hope they get out too...**

**Surplus Imagination - It's actually really bad for another mother to feed a baby that isn't hers. I didn't know this until you made that comment and gave me the idea...research does a writer good! ^_^**

**Merle's Right Hand - Can I call you Ray?**

**Ciao Bella - *IF* they ever get out of that well. ;)**

**Claire Randall Fraser - The scary thing about mob mentality is how a normal, kind person can get so scared of standing out that they go with the flow to protect themselves...St. James was lucky, he managed to get out of the situation...but I'm sure he saw a lot of messed up things with Martin's people**


	24. My True Love

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* * *

**Toby's Journal**

I started this journal to keep track of my observations of the smartest man I know, Milton Mamet, who (I guess he's my father now?) is a very intelligent and patient man.

Today, on the third day of Carol and the Lieutenant being missing, Milton hunched over his research, the corpse of one of the most recent walkers on his work table in the corner of the infirmary.

It was only ten minutes ago that he was studying the stomach contents of the walker, hoping to find out where they originated from or why they came in such a wave, when he discovered the walker died due to a large amount of cyanide in her stomach.

Just now he went to haul another corpse in to investigate.

I have to admit I'm curious myself.

The lady looks like she would have been nice in her lifetime, maybe she was a school teacher, she looks like one.

Milton is very thorough. Beside the woman in plastic bags and specimen containers is a variety of samples he took from the corpse.

Cyanide smells like almonds, I've heard it said. Not sure if that's true, but I don't have the stomach to go over and see if I can smell it in the woman's stomach contents.

It's not fear, it's just that vomit does not appeal to me.

My question is, who would poison themselves? Was this a doomsday cult thing? Or was it someone tired of the world as it is? Who would survive this long and then kill themselves?

I have more questions than answers and I know Milton does too. I know he'll get to the bottom of this. He's very analytical when it comes to matters such as this.

**__..-~-..__**

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****Carol****

"…so from that day forward, I guess I always had a love of art."

Still on his lap, confessing everything, unable to think of a better way to escape the well, Carol was running out of words.

The Lieutenant had fallen silent about five hours ago and she thought, for a moment it was because of her, because she was rambling.

It was beginning to frighten her. Every time she glanced back at him he offered her a forced smile, but his brow was furrowed, worried.

"A love of Monet," he began slowly, finally breaking his silence with his deep, beautifully rich baritone. "Can certainly spark a love of art."

She frowned up at him.

"Lieutenant—"

"Grace has this….forbidden collection of things, pretty little shiny things under our mattress," the man began.

Carol blinked at him, turning so that she sat facing him, not thinking that she was straddling his thighs as she listened to him open up.

"It's…it's why I call her 'magpie'. I don't have the heart to tell her that her little collection digs into my back when I sleep next to her."

"I never knew that's why you called her magpie," Carol said. "Or why she blushes so much when you do. Why are you suddenly thinking about this?"

"Because I have a rock the size of Merle's blade fist poking me in the ass," the Cajun replied casually.

Carol snorted and managed to keep her laughter in, but not for long as the Lieutenant shifted uncomfortably. She tried to get off his legs but there wasn't much room on either side of him between their slop bucket and the walker bodies.

Reaching out, he held her on his lap gently and laughed.

"No, it's alright, think it's moved inside me now, give me a few minutes and my ass'll adjust."

Tsking at his ill humour, she slapped his shoulder. "What would Grace say when you get home and she finds out you have been sodomized by a rock?" She demanded, still laughing.

"I won't tell if you won't," he rocked a little to the left, nearer the walker bodies, taking her with him.

She rested her hands on his chest as he bumped them closer to the corpses, eyes on the hole above them as she could have sworn she heard something crunching in the leaves overhead.

He also had fallen silent, eyes moving upwards curiously, hand stilling on the mucky ground beside them, digging into the soft mud with a spluck.

There was a distinctive dragging sound and the rustling of leaves.

"Walker?" She asked.

"Uggie," he replied.

They both struggled to their feet, their legs stiff and sore from sitting for nearly a day.

Cringing at the popping of her knees, she grabbed for her knife and shouted up at the hole, "come on! Down here!"

Calmly checking his rifle, the Lieutenant kept his eyes on the hole above them, flickering back to his weapon.

There was no need for him to do so, he had done it thoroughly after the last time they took down a walker, but he did it anyways and Carol didn't miss how his brows furrowed, as though he were thinking of more than the upcoming kill.

"Down here!" She screamed louder. "Come on you…" she struggled for a name to call him, needing the cathartic release of screaming at something. The frustration and fear of being trapped inside a fucking hole was beginning to wear her down.

"_Salud_," the Lieutenant suggested, raising his rifle and taking aim.

"_Salud_!" She shrieked, even though she didn't have a clue what that meant.

A shadow wavered between the sunlight and them, casting over them shapes of black.

But there was a painful lack of snarling and Carol scowled up at the shade above them.

The Lieutenant fired and pushed her aside as a deer tumbled down into the well with them.

"Sorry, Bambi," the Lieutenant murmured as it hit hard before them, dead and still.

"Guess it'll do," Carol murmured, pulling the poor animal over on top of the walkers, adding to the height of them.

"Maybe this God of Grace's is finally giving us a hand up, yeah?" The Lieutenant teased, shouldering his rifle and climbing up onto the deer/walker pyramid.

"How does that work?" Carol asked, putting her knife away. "You're obviously not a Christian, but doesn't Grace ever—"

"I wouldn't say I'm not a Christian, _ange_," the Lieutenant said. "I just don't agree with organized religion. Man dictating to me what God's will is. Doesn't sit right."

"Or maybe it's because you like to sin and some of the commandments are pretty strict about that," she teased.

He bumped her up onto his shoulder in a manner that was playful, but rough and she squeaked.

"We are all sinner's in God's eyes," the man said, mocking the over dramatic tone of most televangelists. "Whether you want to repent or spend your days lolling in Satan's bed is up to you."

"Doesn't Grace ever get mad at you for that?" She asked, grunting as she struggled to stand upright on his shaking shoulders as he balanced precariously on the deer.

"Oh, all the time," the Lieutenant replied flippantly. "But sometimes the sex is better when she's fired up and irritated."

Carol smiled. "You two must have a healthy sex life."

"Well, I'm a gentleman, _ange_, and a gentleman never tells, but yeah, we do."

She laughed.

"Sometimes I think she likes to be good and angry for bed," the man went on.

"Well, it must be a requirement with you," she said. "To be good and angry for sex. Seems like you live to irritate people."

"Excuse me?" The man demanded, giving her a bump up as she reached for the lip of grass that edged the hole.

She almost snagged it, collapsing hard against the stone as she hit his shoulders hard.

He grunted in pain, but managed to keep her upright, large, strong hands wrapping around her ankles.

"My _Mamere_ used to say 'boy, you are skating on ice so thin only Jesus could traverse it'," the Lieutenant went on. "Grace likes to say 'keep going down that path, Fayette and you'll wind up with a split lip'. She's somehow a little less eloquent than ol' granny, but my girl is a hell of a spitfire."

"I know."

"Fly, _petit ange_!" The Lieutenant exclaimed as he bumped her just as she jumped a little and it gave her that added height that she needed. Hooking her hands up and over the edge, she clawed at the earth and managed to half drag herself up.

"Oh, angel!" The Lieutenant exclaimed. "_Très bien_!"

She struggled, her ass and legs refusing to get their act together as she flailed wildly, desperate to escape.

Finally she managed to hook a leg up onto the edge and she rolled over and out, flopping onto her back in the leaves and staring up at the sky through the dead winter trees.

Scrambling to her feet, she blinked against the bright light and returned to the hole to peer down at the trapped Cajun. "I'll go find a rope, has to be a farm around here somewhere if there's a well."

Peering up at her, the Lieutenant shielded his eyes and said, "I always liked you, angel. Don't leave me now."

She beamed impishly. "We'll see."

**__..-~-..__**

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She rushed, going through the outbuildings of the farm, looking for something, anything to haul the Lieutenant up with. All Carol wanted to do was get him out and get home to Daryl and her baby.

Finding a chain, she turned from the shop building and stepped outside, finding a walker shuffling towards her from across the yard.

Dropping the chain, she stepped back into the shop and grabbed a pitchfork, heading for the creature to put it down. She had just stabbed the thing, when she heard voices coming from around the house.

Dragging the walker behind the shop with her, she cautiously peeked around the corner of the worn wood building as three people stepped into sight. Two of them arguing, the one pulling up the rear looking around nervously.

They weren't familiar faces at all, so she remained in her spot, burying herself deep into the leaves beside the walker corpse and waiting for the people to go.

"Sounds like someone's wife got bored with serving men beer and doing their laundry," the woman said. "It's suspicious."

"We'll never find them if that's the case," the mulleted man bringing up the rear said.

"We ain't looking for them," the man with the flame red hair declared. "Fuck them. We're looking for something that runs."

"I'm just saying, she probably ran off with that man," the woman went on. "They're probably in some house somewhere having mad sex on every available surface. God I want that."

"Nothing," the red head growled as he checked the shop. "Don't people drive diesels in this fucking canned soup country?"

The three of them looked about in every outbuilding, before heading back the way they came.

Carol remained quiet and still, tempted to go after them to see who they were, but reminded of the Lieutenant festering in the well with a couple of walkers and a dead deer.

Quietly she emerged from the leaves and grabbed the chain, heading into the woods to get the Lieutenant. The sooner she got him, the sooner they could get home to their families.

**__..-~-..__**

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Skittering in the leaves, kicking some down the hole, she peered in.

"Lieutenant? Are you still alive down there?"

He was sitting in the muck where he always sat, hands folded in his lap, eyes on his boots.

"Still here," he said.

"Did you think I left you?" She asked, gently lowering the chain so as not to knock him in the face with it.

"I know you wouldn't have left me, _ange_," he replied.

"I love the level of trust you place in me," she said, standing up and checking on the tree she secured her end of the chain to. "Considering I thought about just filling in that hole."

He chuckled and soon the chain was jangling as he began up it.

As the Cajun reached the top, she beamed happily at him, wincing at how dirty and ragged he looked in the sunlight.

"Grace is going to be so upset at the state of you," she said.

He paused and reached back for the chain that was still dangling down the hole.

"Leave it," she said. "Let's get—"

He grunted and heaved at the chain, pulling hard. "Naw, dinner, _ange_."

Eventually he hauled up the deer and huffed as it lay before them. "Not bad, eh? Dinner and an escape."

She smiled warily. "I saw some people in the nearby farm."

"Strangers?" He asked, kneeling down to field dress the deer.

"Yes."

"They look dangerous?"

"Not really, well, there was this big red head, but I think you could give him a run for his money if we run into them again."

The Lieutenant smiled. "Ginger, eh? Nah, they're scrappy fighters them."

"There was another man with a mullet but—"

"Oh, I could take a mullet-head." The Lieutenant assured her.

She smiled, but her mind was still on the strangers in their territory. Were they dangerous? Were they the ones who were leaving these walkers to roam about?

"Think the red head is…or was in the military. He looked it."

The Lieutenant's hands slowed in skinning the deer. "Military man…did the others—"

"He looked like the only military personal among them."

"Alright, we have company then." He stood up with the half skinned deer. "Best get home fast then, yeah?"

She nodded. "I think so."

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**Brazen Hussy - I felt like Daryl needed two drums and a cymbal crash after that devil remark...  
**

**Yazzy x - Yeah, I swear I research some of the most weird assed things for this fic...I'm probably on a list somewhere for most of the wound and medical things.**

**vickih - Did you just call Delgado Dora the Explorer's cousins name? ...**

**Merle's Right Hand - One order of more sassy Daryl coming right up, darling!**

**Ciao Bella - I live to give palpitations. ^_^**

**Surplus Imagination - Truer words have never been said about Ruth...**

**itsi3 - Ahhhhh...**


	25. Copperhead Road

**To those of you excited about them getting out of that well. I share in your enjoyment...however, I am so, so sorry for this chapter. ^_^****__..-~-..__**

* * *

****The Lieutenant****

"Some nights," Carol confessed as they headed home, keeping to the high ground for fear of another damned journey into a well. "Daryl gets a little frisky after I scold him."

The Lieutenant was quiet long enough to earn a worried glance from her, but she only found him shaking with laughter, head bent, boots planted firmly in the leaves.

"Too much information?" She asked.

"Not enough," he replied. "You need to elaborate on this scolding you give and just why it riles him so much."

"No, think that would be too much," she replied.

They walked on for a ways, before she asked, "you ever think you're messing up horribly?"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning with this whole leadership thing. I feel like, I don't know. I'm mucking it up somehow."

He struggled to keep up with her, as she moved her small frame gracefully through the woods and he hefted a dead deer on his shoulders. To be honest, he felt like a servant following a queen and he was oddly okay with that. It felt right.

"Mucking it up? _Ange_, I know of at least ten leaders who screwed the pooch worse than you."

"Well, here I am, my baby girl is probably starving and my people are sans leader," she said. "Think I messed up somewhere."

"This is my fault, angel, don't blame yourself."

"How is this your fault?" She demanded, laughing at him.

"Well, I didn't get you home, I failed you in that. And I swear—"

"You like to take the blame for things all the time," she said, stopping to look him in the eye. "Why?"

He swallowed thickly. "Do I?"

"Is it a form of self-punishment?"

"Well, in this case it is my fault. You've done everything right. I happen to think you're a great leader."

"But a terrible mother."

"I didn't say that," he argued lightly. "It's extenuating circumstances. That's all it is. You're just doing the best you can in a world that's full of danger. Carol," he urged, "that little girl back home is the luckiest little girl alive. She has a mama who is fighting to get home to her, a mama who…hell, honey, you're a leader. You're a role model for her. That little girl can look at you one day and see this strong, beautiful example of how to grow up, couple that with a daddy who never quits, who never gives up, who holds onto hope even though he's so scared of having it taken away from him. She had strong, good parents and I don't see that as you failing her at all."

"But here I am—"

"Hey," he leaned forward and bumped his forehead against hers gently since his hands were otherwise occupied for one of his patent hugs. "No more of that talk. We'll be home soon and you'll be with your little angel again."

"And you'll see your son."

He beamed broadly, unable to stop the grin from spreading. "Yeah. And I'll toss my petit princesses into the peach tree for being brats, I know they're giving Gracie hell. They always do."

"I think you love them for it."

"I would never encourage my children to be rude," he explained. "But I'll encourage them to be them, most certainly. And if that means allowing them to be spirited, then I will not stop them."

Her smile faded and she stared up at him with such serious blue eyes that his heart skipped a beat for a moment.

"You're a good father," she said simply.

That meant the world to him and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent his emotions from showing.

"I'm alright," he responded, heading onwards again. "Nothing like a queenly mama, but I try to keep my babies safe."

"You shouldn't sell yourself short," Carol said. "I've seen you with those girls, you are their entire world."

"Mais, I think they just like me because I'm the one who doesn't tell them 'no'. Grace is the one who actually tries to give them structure. Takes a lot more guts than I have."

She chuckled and stepped from the trees into the ditch of an old country road. "Well," she began, stopping quickly at the sight of a flashy black SUV, stopped not more than a few yards from them.

The Lieutenant spied it as well and they both dropped down quickly into the dead winter grass, the deer falling down the steep embankment behind them.

They would have stayed that way, if it wasn't for the snapping of twigs that came from the trees to their right and an uggie who sauntered out.

By the SUV there was a jovial laughing as some men in black SWAT gear stepped out from around the side, spying the thing.

"Stupid bitch," one of the men murmured under his breath.

The other laughed.

Carol tensed at his side and the Lieutenant narrowed his eyes as the two men from the dark SUV, with their dark armour and their dark sunglasses, watched the thing.

Unfortunately it was heading for the Lieutenant and Carol on the banks of the ditch and this the men saw, immediately straightening up from where they were casually watching the uggie.

They snapped into action, the one drawing his pistol, the other heading for them.

"Don't worry," the man assured them. "We have this covered! Just come with me." He seemed to paused as he spied the Lieutenant in all his gear, before turning his eyes on Carol.

He reached out anyways and grabbed her firmly by the upper arm. "Come with me!" He ordered, half hauling her, half dragging her up to the vehicle as the other man put down the uggie.

The armoured man holding Carol pushed her a little hard against the SUV and pointed at the Lieutenant. "You just stand there and hold your position!"

Deciding to just go along with it, the Lieutenant at least moved to keep Carol from the man's rough grasp, sliding his hand around her waist companionably.

Both armoured men approached and eyed them.

"It's okay, ma'am, sir," the one began. "We have the situation under control." He studied the Lieutenant. "You military?"

"Marine," he said, after a moment of quiet contemplation.

"We could use you, Marine," the other man said.

"Have someone drowning?" The Lieutenant asked playfully. "Because I can't swim really, I just sort of float—"

"Your President needs you, Marine," Man Number One insisted firmly. "Would you refuse?"

"My President?" He demanded.

"Come on, get in the vehicle," Man Number One said, opening the back door.

"Ah, do—"

"This is not an option, Marine." The man eyed Carol long and hard in a cold, calculating way that settled uncomfortably in Fay's gut. "This woman important to you?"

For a moment the Lieutenant was unsure. If the men only meant to leave Carol if she was of no use to them (which he assumed was the case) then he'd let them know she meant nothing to him so that she could get home to her baby. But.

But.

If they had no use for her (and if they laughed at that uggie so callously) he assumed she was expendable and invaluable and they probably wouldn't leave her in one piece.

So he claimed her, because he'd rather her be valuable to them through him than for her to be put in any kind of danger.

"She's my wife," he said smoothly. "We've never been apart for…what is it, honey? Ten years?"

"Twelve," Carol corrected sweetly, smiling at the men. "You boys are awfully brave. But we just want to get going. Thank you for the rescue."

"Sorry, ma'am, your husband is a Marine, he has his duty to his country."

"And who are you to dictate duty, couyon?" The Lieutenant inquired. "I'm sorry, but I only follow—"

"We only answer to the President, Marine."

"Lieutenant," he corrected. "Vancoughnett."

"Vancoughnett, I'm Wilkins, this is Hartnell. We're the President's men."

"Like…his lovers?" The Lieutenant played dumb, he liked people to think he was dumber than he was, especially potentially dangerous people.

"Like, his Secret Servicemen."

"Honey," Carol said, rubbing his arm. "I think…I think they're serious."

Looking down at Carol, they two exchanged a look and in her eyes the Lieutenant spied the sparks of understanding. She was prepared to play the same game he was and he admired her for that.

He didn't buy this President bullshit, but he certainly could play along. If these men wanted to think he was that dumb and if it would keep Carol safe until they could make a break for it, then he could certainly be the village idiot.

"Wait," he said, turning to the men. "Are you…the President is alive?"

"Come with us, sir," Wilkins ordered. "We'll explain everything at the compound."

Seeing they had no choice as of yet, Fay nodded and gently helped Carol into the back of the SUV, keeping very, very close to her in order to avoid separation. At this moment in time, keeping her alive and healthy enough to get her back to her baby was his main priority. Finding out who these bossy dicks were came in second.

"Where is this compound?" He asked as the men piled into the front seat.

Finding there were no handles on the doors in the back and the locks clicking, he suddenly understood just what sort of shit waters they were free floating in. This wasn't a willing trip, it was very much like the machinations of some military force.

"That is to remain undisclosed until we get you debriefed, Lieutenant," Wilkins said.

"We're so glad you came along," Carol gushed. "It was getting dangerous out there again."

Hugging her in close as Wilkins eyed them in the rear view mirror, the Lieutenant smiled at her. "We'll be safe now, honey. These men are highly trained professionals."

"You must be highly trained yourself, Marine, to have made Lieutenant," Hartnell said.

"Oh, that's just because I'm good at paperwork, sir. Tell me," he began. "Why is the President not in Washington? Shouldn't he be—"

"If things went south this badly, Lieutenant, would you want to be in the first place criminals would look?" Hartnell demanded.

"No, no I guess not."

"Just relax," Wilkins said. "We're holed up nearby, you can get cleaned up there and we'll find you some fresh gear."

"Wouldn't mind some dinner," the Lieutenant said. "My little angel here has gone far too long without a meal for my liking."

"You were never any good at hunting, sweetie," Carol returned playfully.

He leaned down and blew a raspberry against the side of her neck as Wilkins continued to scrutinize them in the mirror.

While he seemed relieved and carefree, his gut was churning. These men, this situation didn't settle right.

"Stay close," he whispered in her ear, before sitting back up straight.

Carol reached over and squeezed his hand in understanding, her face grim, eyes on the passing countryside. He knew she was mourning the reunion she didn't get to have with her family, he was mourning the same loss. There was, not only two little imps waiting for him, but a sweet, gentle woman and a boy, a small diamond of a prince he wanted to get back to.

Hell, he couldn't even remember what his son looked like, he didn't have that time to imprint it in his memory. His son was too young, only too new to the world.

Things must have been bad. They must have been bad because he was praying to be back in that goddamned well again.

These men who took them, they were shady as hell and he wouldn't trust them any further than he could throw them. But maybe they knew, maybe they were the ones, maybe they had some kind of answers for everything that had been going on lately.

**__..-~-..__**

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**DarylDixon'sLover - Really? Uh oh? They got out of the well...how can that possibly be an 'uh oh' moment?  
**

**Ciao Bella - Hehe...**

**Brazen Hussy - I don't know. The Lt certainly didn't think so.**

**Surplus Imagination - I bet it smelled like horse sweat, dog breath and cat farts. Just speculating. ^_^**

**vickih - I kind of like Diego...the nickname sticks!**

**Claire Randall Fraser - Oh, honey, we're going on a rollercoaster ride in these next few chapters if you enjoyed that moment. ^_^**

**RandomMoonshadow - Hehe...**

**Yazzy x - Yep! Their return should be interesting!**

**jaibhagwan - Sassy Daryl has become my new favourite kind of Daryl.**

**itsi3 - When they get home, I imagine they'll stroll up pretty as you please.**


	26. Farewell Ride

**Yikes, I am so sorry for being late with this update! I finished my first year of college and just sort of drifted away from writing. I'm sorry for the inconvience to those of you still reading this silly series. But anyways, here's my peace offering. I love you all!**

* * *

Miss DeVeau,

We've put up for the night in a small filling station just outside of Macon, had to go another route to get through the state line into Georgia just Sergeant Rhoades and myself. There were suspicious vehicles lingering around the highway just south of the Tennessee state line and we feel they are military or an organized group of sorts.

Tomorrow we'll be at the convent, hopefully you'll have found your people by then, but if not I'll be there to personal deliver this letter.

Sort of defeats the purpose in writing to you, I suppose. But I'm beginning to see the merit in keeping records such as this. Historically, these would be good resources for events.

If your people have to leave the safety of your convent, I would highly suggest perhaps they only do so in the case of extreme emergency for their safety.

I hesitate to write this, but I feel entirely responsible for the missing people, my men were supposed to be on patrol, but with winter being on us, I thought we'd be safe from this kind of thing.

Major O'Hara

**__..-~-..__**

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****Carol****

They seemed to have been driving for hours. She thought when they said safe house, it would be a rambling, run down farmhouse nearby, she didn't think they meant just on the other side of the Florida state line.

But as they passed a sign cheerfully welcoming them to Florida, she realized that they had indeed been travelling for hours.

Beside her the Lieutenant was quiet, but at the sight of the sign, he sat up a little straighter in his spot and cleared his throat.

"You boys mind if we make a stop? My bladder isn't what it used to be." He said.

She bit her bottom lip, wondering what he was cooking up.

Hartnell and Wilkins exchanged a look in the front, before Wilkins pulled the vehicle over.

The Lieutenant stepped out of the SUV, just as Hartnell stepped out, the two men exchanging a look as Hartnell stuck his hand out and prevented Carol from going anywhere.

"I'm sure you can piss on your own," Hartnell said.

The Lieutenant blinked, before smiling. "Of course, I think I can trust you boys with my one true love." He laughed then. "I am, of course, joking. I wouldn't trust my own brother with the love of my life. My heart, she goes where I go."

"She'll be fine with us," Wilkins insisted, still at the wheel.

"You boys sure are bossy," the Lieutenant shot back with a jovial smile, leaning in and kissing Carol on the forehead. "They try anything you kick their teeth out, _ange_." He whispered to her.

She smiled back at him as he stepped away. "I'll be right here."

Watching him disappear into the woods, she realized he was making one last effort to get away, that the Florida sign had spooked him.

It was admirable, but she didn't think they were getting far. She didn't know if they'd ever get home, but she knew they wouldn't ever stop trying. The two men with her read like rattlesnakes, their eyes were beady and full of venom.

"So where are you all from?" Wilkins asked, finally emerging from the SUV and standing near the hood with his gun. He said this with a hint of a Kentuckian accent, something watered down by a Northern climate. It was cold sounding, not the warm roiling drawl of the Southern gentleman, but something with a flint to it.

"Basile," she explained.

"Basile…?" The man urged.

"Oh, Louisiana," she added.

"You don't sound half as Cajun as your man," Hartnell pointed out.

"I'm not Cajun at all, I grew up here in Georgia."

"So…why just the two of you running around? Don't you know its not safe?" Hartnell taunted a little smugly, shoulder his rifle with a cocky grin.

His accent was pure North, something almost Bostonian maybe, a hint of that cheeky American-Irish lilt, somewhere caught between a sterile scalpel and a well-oiled gun.

"We do alright," she said. "Lafayette keeps us fed and we stick to the backwoods. It's been cozy, just the two of us." That last part had actually been true. Down in that well, she had found his company was pleasant, that when he wasn't joking or teasing, he had insight that bordered on hierophant and prophet.

Thinking of this made her miss Daryl all the more. Daryl was blunt, he would tell it straight, he wouldn't turn words into poetry, he would just declare a dog's ass was a dog's ass and move on.

The Lieutenant seemed more the type to consider the dog's ass, before changing it into a mutt's rump.

She smiled to herself at the thought of this as the man himself emerged from the woods.

"Ooh-ye-yi!" He declared with a grin. "I don't know about you boys, but I think Florida sure has some weird assed vegetation! Pardon my language, angel." He turned to Carol.

She forced a smile for appearances sake.

"Well," the Lieutenant said, turning to the men and smiling broadly at Hartnell as he slipped into the front seat, leaving the younger man frowning. "Let's get moving? I kind of want to meet Mr. President and shake his hand."

At first, as Hartnell sullenly slid into the back with Carol, she didn't understand why the Lieutenant broke up the seating arrangement.

It wasn't until he started up a hearty conversation with Wilkins in the front, laughing and joking and warming the man a little, that she realized they had already started on their escape.

Butter up their captors, get their guard down.

So, taking his lead, she turned to Hartnell and smiled sweetly. "You are so young, how old are you, honey?"

**__..-~-..__**

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****The Lieutenant****

They finally reached this so-called 'safehouse' just as the sun was sinking in the west.

It was an old motel, one of those campy theme ones just along the highway. The sort, Lafayette knew, with heart shaped tubs and disco-retro mirrors everywhere. Obviously for the sake of checking one's appearance, even while dozing in bed one could look up and find themselves staring down with bleary eyes.

"_Mais_, nice place," the Lieutenant gushed as they stepped out. "Angel, didn't we set fire to a place like this by accident on our honeymoon?" He teased Carol with a wink, hoping to set her worry at ease.

She returned the playful smile. "I'm not really sure it was an accident."

Sliding an arm around her waist, the Cajun turned to their 'escorts' and said, "we're gonna head to bed then. See you boys in the morning."

"Just hold on, Lieutenant," Wilkins said. "We all share one room, for your safety."

"Well," the Lieutenant took a confused step back. "Our safety?" He glanced down at his muddy gear. "Wha…honey did I join the Marines? What is this _chouchoot_ I'm wearing?"

"Looks like a Marine uniform to me, honey," she returned.

"Oh, that's right, girl, I've been a Marine for seventeen years," he turned and gave Wilkins and large grin. "I should be able to protect myself and my heart from danger." He slapped the man on the shoulder. "Appreciate the offer—"

Hartnell moved in beside Wilkins, both G-men looking stern.

"One room," Wilkins insisted.

The Lieutenant backed down. "Alright, but I'm not sharing the little lady."

As they moved into one of the rooms on the second story, he kept close to Carol, not sure what to expect.

Inside it was dark and he could see supplies stacked up in a corner. This place had been used a few times by these men or others like them, it was perfect, but it was also a strange place for a safehouse.

"Here's a double sleeping bag," Wilkins said. "As a sign of our goodwill."

"Hey, I appreciate it," the Lieutenant said, taking the sleeping bag.

"If you two are hungry we have some cans of rations and bottled water. Can't get you clean until we get to the compound, but we can give you anything else you need. Sorry there's no bed, we needed the storage space."

"Just want to catch some sleep," the Lieutenant said. "We'll take those beans and water, though."

**__..-~-..__**

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****Carol****

His chivalry was amusing after spending a few days in a well peeing and sleeping practically on top of him, so when they sped through their first real semi-meal in days and crawled into the sleeping bag, his sense of propriety returned as he wriggled back as far from her as he could.

There wasn't anywhere he could go, they still pressed against each other like sardines in a can, so she tapped him on the back and whispered, "roll over."

He did, wriggling and squirming his long, broad shouldered frame in the confined space in order to face her.

Carol took a quick look at the men who had taken up a place as far from them as they could in the motel room, both G-men still awake and holding their weapons, freakishly quiet by the window.

"Can't sleep?" He whispered to her, his face about an inch from hers.

"I have a palette of bottled water jabbing me in the spine, so…no." She picked at the rough edges of his name patch on his jacket and frowned. "Think it's the actual president waiting for us in Florida or just some nutjob like the Governor?"

"Oh, I'm sure it's some nutjob," the Lieutenant whispered. "The real president is either dead or deep, deep under the Pentagon."

"The Pentagon?"

The Lieutenant smiled. "Think he's just hanging out in the White House? Nah, they got him secure and underground is the best place, probably packed with goodies and hell, he probably has Tom Hanks acting out Shakespeare down there for all I know."

"Like a court jester?" She returned.

"Yep."

She chuckled, burying her face against the thin pillow they were given to share.

"Bet he's down under ground, Tom Hanks giving him every damned scene of Forrest Gump while the First Lady plays Jenny." He kept on, causing Carol to slap his shoulder. "Hell, bet the ol' Leader of the Free World is playing Lieutenant Dan."

"Don't make me laugh, we're supposed to be asleep," she warned him.

"Aw, they'd only figure we were fooling around in this bag," he returned.

Carol tsked. "I'm telling Daryl about everything you said to me when we get home."

The Lieutenant winced. "Lord, if I knew you were gonna tattle I wouldn't have looked at your butt when you were on my shoulders."

"You didn't!"

"Well, no," he admitted. "It was too dark in that well. But you should tell Daryl anyways, just to see his face turn purple."

They fell quiet and for a moment Carol thought the Lieutenant had fallen asleep, until he spoke again, soft and low, his baritone rumbling in his chest.

"I'll tell you one thing, we get out of here, I'm going to show them boys just how little we need their protection." He promised.

"They keep treating me like a housewife I might join you on that," she murmured.

Again they fell quiet.

"What do you think they're doing back home?" She asked. "Think they're looking for us? Missing us? Do you think Scout has something to eat without me? I mean, of course they're missing us, but I just…I just feel like the worst mother ever. I didn't think, going out with you that day that we'd be pulled so far from home."

"I'm sure Scout is just fine," he assured her. "She has a whole clan of people to look out for her. And they're all looking out for her. She's a real darling that one."

Carol smiled sadly. It was a touch proud and a small bit tranquil, but it was mostly sad.

"If Scout is a darling, then Five is a little Prince," she returned softly.

The Lieutenant nodded. "Yep. He takes after his mama, real regal that one. I can tell already. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Grace wasn't feeding them both from her own breasts."

Although she knew he said that to make Carol feel better, the thought that another woman had to feed her own daughter because she wasn't there to do it pained Carol and she fell sombre and quiet, before just shutting down and rolling over.

For a second she thought the Lieutenant would just blindly think she was tired and leave it at that, hoping he was a little numb to her reaction.

Unfortunately for her, she had forgotten he made his bread and butter on being sharp eyed and astute when it came to reading things and that while he played the simple man often, he was actually one of the smarter men in their group, so when he wriggled in close behind her and said, "okay, now I know I said something that itched you there. If you point it out to me I'll be sure to never say it again."

She smiled sadly, refusing to cry. If she cried she would wail and alert the men across the room from them.

"I hope Grace is okay with the idea of it, if she is feeding both babies," Carol said, shoving her mouth against the pillow to catch the sob that tore from her throat. "But it should be me there with my baby."

He wriggled in even closer and whispered, "can I make those tears go away?"

She shook her head.

"What would Daryl do?" He asked.

"I'm fine," she croaked.

"Fine," he returned easily. "Then the Lieutenant would do this," he wrapped her up in his arms tightly and squeezed.

She smiled despite the tears.

"I'm going to get you home to your family or die trying," he promised.

"Me too," she stated, knowing that while he didn't shed tears, while he wasn't crying or sobbing or pondering out loud about the state of his loved ones, he was missing them just as much. More because he was missing them in silence.

The man smiled at her as she rolled onto her back.

"I mean it," she swore. "I will break them if they try to keep us from going home."

"I believe you, _ange_." He replied, settling in comfortably against her.

She smiled a little. "You stink."

"You too," he whispered. "But I was too polite to say it."

"Are you saying I'm not polite?" She returned lightly.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Now _fais do-do_, _ange_."

And she did, she fell into an uneasy, light sleep that only barely satisfied her body, but did nothing for her mind.

**__..-~-..__**

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****The Lieutenant****

It was odd.

The further away from that Georgian convent they drove, the more he felt his energy draining.

As they headed deeper into the heart of Florida the next morning, he realized they were putting more distance between him and his girls and that small squirming _pistache_ he called a son.

Carol had broken down the night before in their sleeping bag, he only wondered how long it would take for him to make the realization that they were heading from their safe beds and sturdy home, towards the unknown.

He wondered if this was how it felt to die. To travel away from everything he knew and loved, into an unknown where he would find either paradise or eternal hellfire.

On the outside he kept him mask of simple minded Marine, just one of those regular Jarheads who knew nothing but fighting and domination, not even letting on to the men all his accolades. They didn't need to know he was a crackshot with a rifle or that Double Trouble meant he was skilled in both parachuting and diving. They didn't need to know that while he liked to jokingly call himself a Drill Sergeant, to rile up fellow Marines, he would get his ass handed to him by Marines who didn't know his sense of humour enough to know he was actually a Drill Instructor.

He chuckled to himself as he pondered this. Serious Marines sure got their asses in a bunch when you used terms incorrectly. They were a proud bunch and he always had to step carefully with them, but sometimes he liked to push their buttons a little. Shake up the more serious ones.

It was why, even as a common Devil Dog, he refused the flat top buzzcut a lot of Marines got. He kept his hair short, but never buzzed. It drove others insane and it amused him greatly. Before everything, he had always railed against people who took themselves too seriously, that may have been why it was such a shock that they wanted to promote him the first time.

But he was good, proficient with a rifle, knew how to cross his T's and dot his I's on all the paperwork, he kept himself fit and in control at all times.

Which, brought him back where he was. He had died and hell, he figured, was Florida.

Though, that didn't make sense, because at his side sat an angel, holding his hand and watching the countryside roll by.

Looking at her, he thought of his own girl and sighed a little.

Gracie was more than just some woman in his life, she was, almost from the start, someone who was like that missing puzzle piece in his side. She made him whole, she balanced him and she understood him.

All his joking and smiling bullshit was just that to her.

He figured if Grace could see through his bullshit, then Carol most definitely saw through Daryl's tough guy surface and for some reason that made Carol precious to him.

Daryl was the first person, even before all other men, who he felt was an actual brother, lost at birth, but forged from the same clay as him.

The man was rough and crude, but he was more than just a man. Daryl was, he supposed, like him. He would put on a show, act out a simple, backwoods country boy, but there was more. Daryl knew things, he knew trees and rocks and animals, he could tell a bird just by its call.

Carol, by association, was like an extension of this brother. She was the puzzle piece to Daryl and therefore, Lafayette knew the man wasn't whole without her.

He wasn't lying when he said he would die trying to get her home. He would.

What was his life compared to the happiness of two people who had previously been so miserable and lost?

And they were such good people.

Carol was a real, genuine angel on earth and Daryl was a Prince among men, he had honour and integrity in his heart, he just didn't know he did.

And their little girl, that sweet little baby girl who garbled and cooed up at her Uncle Fay as he had held her, she was going to be one of the most powerful women in the group, even before she was a woman, she would pull people behind her, she would lead, she would forge paths and futures.

He wondered then about Five. Would his son be a leader or a follower? What Annie or Olivia would be like as they aged?

Thinking of Annie and all her night terrors and the screams and tears that forced their way from the small child's body reminded him that he too had something to go home for.

This halted his fight and die urge, it tamped it out like water extinguishing a flame.

No, he had people now who needed him. Grace was pretty as a picture, she didn't need him as much as his girls and son. Grace would have many men in her life if she only asked.

But he wouldn't blindly die now, no. This escape they'd make, Carol and him together, they would need to approach it delicately. Carve it up like a small fish you fried up and they would need to work together to ensure they both made it out.

Carol glanced over at him and smiled sadly.

He leaned his head forward and rested his forehead against hers with a small grin in a gesture he had taken to doing out of polite respect to Daryl. It was less intimate than a hug or a touch, it was almost like a ancient gesture from some long dead race of people.

Now, he only needed to know how to read Carol the way he could read Grace and they would be a force.

**__..-~-..__**

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**Cajun Dialect Reminder**

**Chouchoot - Thingamajig**

**Pistache - Peanut**

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**Brazen Hussy -I see some bad juju arisin'...I'm sorry, couldn't help myself.**

**Yazzy x - Yeah, they are never going to get home. I feel it.**

**vickih - You read my mind on the cookie thing. Hehe.**

**RandomMoonshadow - Aw, but being nice is no fun! ^_^**

**itsi3 - Thank you!**

**Merle's Right Hand - If I am a tricky minx, it's because you've corrupted me, you sly vixen.**

**Claire Randall Fraser - Debauchery? Me? NEVER! ^_^**

**Ciao Bella - You mean the Lt doesn't have a horde of fangirls after him already? The poor man will be devastated to know this...**

**jaibhagwan - Maybe after a few days of no Daryl she'll snap and take all of them with her...?**

**Surplus Imagination - Obstacles are the spice of life...or something like that.**

**daisylou2013 - I fully understand this. A lot of people are somehow disgustintrigued by the idea. That's a word, right?**


	27. Run Through the Jungle

**I suddenly remembered I have to end this series at some point.**

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**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Run Through the Jungle  
**

****Carol****

They rolled into a camp that was highly secure by the looks of the guards in heavy body armour who patrolled around a perimeter made up of busses pulled around a large fancy looking office building of sorts surrounded by a tent city.

The further the left Georgia behind, the more anxious she got. Not for herself or the Lieutenant, but for her baby girl.

It was a miracle at her age she even had another and survived, but here she was squandering her opportunity at the hands of some terrifyingly stoic men.

As the SUV pulled up out front of the building, she spied a melange of uniformed men emerge, all of them seeming to flank a towering military man in full dress uniform, complete with hat and gloves.

She swallowed thickly.

Wilkens and Hartnell ushered both her and the Lieutenant out of the vehicle and practically dragged them before the officer.

He gave the Lieutenant a run for his money in height, his shoulders just as broad and powerful, his waist just as boyish, giving him a striking figure. But his handsome face was severe, intense, and almost stern.

"Major General, we have a new gun for the Corps."

The man studied Carol, before quirking a brow and motioning to her.

"Ah, me," the Lieutenant said. "They probably mean me. Though she's not too shabby with a rifle."

Sighing lightly, the officer spoke. "I could care less, take new recruits up with the General. You both know recruits aren't my job."

"Major General Gauthier, we both—"

"Both what?" The officer snapped.

Carol noticed this man's commanding tone hushed the two men who had taken them by force to this place and covered a smirk with a twitch of her nose.

Staring down both Hartnell and Wilkens with olive oil eyes, the officer then repeated his inquiry. "Both what?"

"The President said—"

"Gentlemen, until I hear it from the President's own wine stained lips, I don't do anything I don't feel like doing. Take these recruits to the General."

"Sir," Carol broke in softly, catching the man's attention again.

His intense eyes stared her down. They were emotionless and hard and she felt as though they could cut through steel.

"Sir," she went on, "we didn't ask to be brought here. To be honest we were doing just fine on our own. I'd like your permission to leave, please?"

The man stared at her for a solid three minutes, unblinking, barely breathing, before he quirked his brow higher and said, "not my problem, ma'am. Take it up with the General."

As the man walked away, Carol scowled a little and grumbled to the Lieutenant, "with an attitude like that I'll make it his problem."

The Major General's footsteps faltered and she knew he heard her.

They were brought into the building, deep, deep inside it, passing people working in the offices like nothing had changed.

Carol scowled mildly at them. How milk fed they looked, how spoiled and clean they were. Like they were still clinging to the old world.

Didn't they know the rest of the country was cast into hell?

In a large office waiting room, they were told by some secretarial looking woman that the General wasn't seeing anyone.

Wilkens and Hartnell both seemed to be growing impatient.

Beside her in one of the waiting room chairs, the Lieutenant lounged idly, hands behind his head, cradling it as he stuck his long legs out almost smugly.

"Bureaucracy in action," he exclaimed loudly.

"This is ridiculous," she growled lowly to him. "I just want to go home. Why did they even bring us here? They obviously don't need the manpower."

"Marines are useful," the Lieutenant said. "Especially in a state that touches water like Florida."

"Yeah, well, you're useful back home. I'm useful back home."

Reaching over, the Lieutenant gripped her hand warmly and said, "don't worry, _ange_. We just have to bid our time."

"Scout might not have time," she said.

Grimly, the Lieutenant withdrew his hand and sat back, suddenly more morose and thoughtful.

"I'll handle these two," someone spoke from across the waiting room. "Until the General's ready for visitors."

Carol looked up and found a short military man standing there in his dress uniform holding some files, peering at them from behind black framed, Army issued glasses.

"Thanks, Colonel," Wilkens said.

The man nodded and moved to stand before Carol and the Lieutenant as Wilkens and Hartnell slunk out of the room.

"I'm Colonel Kravitz," he greeted. "Welcome to Jacksonville."

"Lieutenant Lafayette Vancoughnett and this is my wife Carol."

Kravitz looked them over quietly, his outward attitude and appearance drastically different from the first officer they encountered. This man looked friendly enough, though he didn't smile, his eyes read kindness. He looked to be a little older than Major General Gauthier, possibly in his late forties, with softer eyes an indecipherable shade between hazel and grey.

Carol hoped they could plead their case to him better.

"Follow me," the man said in a sweet, almost shy tone. "I'll get you settled with some rations and a place to rest up."

Following the Lieutenant's example of biding their time, Carol followed the man obligingly back down the way they came.

"Where are you from?" He asked conversationally as they took the stairs.

"Georgia," she said, not wanting to be specific.

"Just the two of you?"

"Been Carol and I for a long time now," the Lieutenant said.

"Must have been hard when the groups of them moved through camp," the Colonel said.

"It wasn't too bad, we kept deep in the woods, high in a stand. I work best at a height, you understand."

"Rifleman?" The Colonel asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Good, we could use more on the wall."

"To be honest," Carol decided to try, "we'd kind of like to go home."

Stopping short on the stairwell, the Colonel looked at her for a moment, tilting his head studiously, before he offered her a small smile. "Well, I'd like to help, but being that your fellow there is a Marine, his duty is to the President now. You're free to go, however, if you'd like."

"So, we're against our will here?" The Lieutenant asked.

"You're a Marine," the Colonel said. "I'd like to arrange for the Corps to discharge you, if that's what you want, but…you're in the service and my hands are tied legally."

"Legally?" Carol asked. "What legal system still exists? Do you know what it's like out there?"

Colonel Kravitz sighed. "I do. Believe me, I know what's going on outside these walls. But I'm sorry, the law is the law." He continued walking. "It's not so bad here," he assured them. "We abide by all laws instituted by the United States of America, there's fresh water and plenty of beds and canned goods."

"But no freedom?" Carol inquired.

"Not for him, sorry." The Colonel looked at her sincerely. "Really. I am. I don't want to be here either, to be honest I hate Florida, I was only down here visiting my parents in Boca Raton. I was working my way north when they found me and brought me here."

"Your parents…" Carol began.

"They're with me here, my little girl too."

Smiling, she asked, "how old?"

"Eight, she was a late comer, but I'm glad she came."

The smile of fatherly pride was unmistakable on the Colonel's face and so Carol decided to play her hand.

"We have a little girl too," she said. "Back home."

"You weren't alone?" The Colonel asked with wide eyes.

"Would you tell strangers you have more family in these times?" The Lieutenant broke in.

Eyeing them sombrely, the Colonel asked, "not all of them are relations though?"

Carol shook her head.

Dropping his head, the Colonel sighed again. "I can't help them. We have a strictly relations policy here. We can't take in surplus. I'm sorry. But we can send soldiers to get your little girl, if you want?"

That was out of the question and Carol shook her head.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," the Colonel said. "Well, you are free to go, Carol. If you wish, and at some point if you come back with your daughter, we can take you both in for the Lieutenant."

"Thank you," Carol said.

"I'm sorry," the Colonel apologized sincerely. "I wish Hartnell and Wilkens never found you. They can be persuasive."

As they walked once more, hitting the basement of the building, the Lieutenant said conversationally, "so this President…you meet him?"

"It's too much of a safety risk for anyone to meet with the President except for the General. The General meets with him, gets his orders and relays them to the officers, we carry them out. Each officer is in charge of a different aspect of the camp."

"What's your duty?" Carol asked.

"Normally? Not getting new comers settled," the Colonel said with a grin. "But I am in charge of personnel, so if there's any issue with anything, you let me know."

"You're a Ranger," the Lieutenant said after a moment. "Seem a little small for a Ranger."

"Small and Jewish," the Colonel said. "I like it that way. Lulls people into a cocky sense of superiority."

"Hey, I wouldn't fight you." The Lieutenant exclaimed lightly. "If you're a Ranger, I won't challenge you at all, sir."

"That's good," the Colonel returned. "I like you, but I'd ruin that pretty face, Marine."

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"Here's a room for you two to bunk down in," the Colonel said, opening an old janitorial closet for them. It had a bunk bed shoved at the back and nothing else. "Sorry, it's cramped and not cozy for a married couple, but it's indoors, which believe me, is the Promised Land for a lot of personnel out there."

"It's fine," Carol said. "Thank you."

"I have meal vouchers for you, these have to last a week, so…don't try for seconds," the Colonel counted out some cheap little ticket type tokens for them. "Showers are on the main floor, by the gym, feel free to use the complimentary soap and shampoos left in there. There's plenty of towels and hot water. If you need anything, genera inquiries are on the first floor by the cafeteria. But don't hesitate to grab me if you see me for anything."

"Thank you, Colonel."

The officer smiled and said, "I hope you manage to get your girl here with you. I'm sorry you were separated."

"It's not your fault," she assured him, reaching out and touching his forearm warmly.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay. Lieutenant, up by eight, you can check in with the Corps Colonel in the front lobby." The man finished, before backing out of the room and leaving them to their own devices.

Closing the door behind him, Carol sighed and turned to the Lieutenant.

He reached up and pulled the cord on the bare bulb, illuminating them.

"So?" She said.

"You have to go," he said simply, moving to the bunks, pressing the mattress to feel them for firmness.

"I'm not leaving you," she argued.

"Your baby girl is more important. I know you can fend for yourself on the way back," he replied, hopping onto the bottom bunk and curling into a comfy ball.

"Lieutenant," she argued. "I'm not leaving you here."

"It's not so bad," he stated. "They seem more stable than most. I'll be fine. But your little girl won't."

"I can't. I won't walk into that convent without you."

Hopping up, the Lieutenant pressed a finger to his lips. "I wouldn't put it past the military to bug our room," he whispered.

"Sorry," she whispered back.

"Listen, _ange_, I don't think I'm in any real threat here," he said. "You should go home. If push comes to shove I can always find some way out of here. Don't let anyone come after me. These men are all trained and they're not some backwoods militia a half-cocked Colonel cooked up in Tennessee. These men are damned good, the best of the best. If anyone comes here looking for trouble, they won't make it back alive."

"I'm not leaving you," Carol insisted. "We'll get out of this together."

"Your daughter—"

"We're going home together," she insisted firmly. "Now just listen to me. I have a plan."

"I'm listening," the Lieutenant said. "And I'm also a little scared of you right now. Please don't yell at me."

Smiling despite the dire situation, Carol grabbed hold of his uniform front and said, "be serious."

"What's your plan?"

"Well, I think our best shot is selling our situation to the President or even the General, in order to get close to either, we'd be best if I got close to the Major General."

The Lieutenant pulled away a little and frowned. "How close?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," she scolded him. "Well, whatever it takes, but not that just yet. I want to get a feel for this Major General, get to know him, maybe appeal to his human side."

"I don't know, _ange_. He might not have a human side. Seems to me he's a real model of a modern Major Gen—"

"Just don't," she pleaded, on the verge of laughing. "I'm serious.

"Alright, you work on him, but we might also want to play up the Colonel's sympathy, he might not have the pull, but I wouldn't write him off as useless yet."

Carol nodded. "In the meantime, keep playing dumb, I think it lessens your threat."

"_Playing_?!"

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****************************************************************************************__**DarylDixon'sLover - Maybe you better read back a few chapters...**__****************************************************************************************

****************************************************************************************__**RandomMoonshadow - The new big bad should be interesting this round.**__****************************************************************************************

****************************************************************************************__**Yazzy x - Yes, those babies need their parents. Poor little ducks.**__****************************************************************************************

****************************************************************************************__**itsi3 - Well, thank you.**__****************************************************************************************

****************************************************************************************__**Surplus Imagination - I'm hoping the next chapter will be Daryl and Grace working together. Should be interesting to write.**__****************************************************************************************

****************************************************************************************__**Guest - Thank you! Sorry for the late update! College has been nuts.**__****************************************************************************************

****************************************************************************************__**Padgaent - Probably not the best way to encourage a writer to continue a story. Sarcasm is never a good option, my friend.**__****************************************************************************************

****************************************************************************************__**alibabwa - Reviews like yours remind me that this story is loved, thank you for the encouragement!**__****************************************************************************************

****************************************************************************************__**RuinNyght - Sorry! I'm hoping to get this one finished! I didn't mean to get swept away by school, but as mentioned previously, college is nuts.**__****************************************************************************************

****************************************************************************************__**Claire Randall Fraser - Again, sweet reviews like yours are some lovely encouragement and a friendly reminder to write more. Thanks for your support!**__****************************************************************************************


	28. Plastic Jesus

**DarylDixon'sLover -** Good question. Important question. A question for the ages!

**Taemom -** Well, thank you! Very kind to come back from a lengthy hiatus to such lovely reviews!

**RuinNyght -** To be honest, I'd want Fate as my wingman in a fight.

**itsi3 -** Thank you! It's good to be back! I missed this story lots and lots!

**Claire Randall Fraser -** You know the right thing to say to tempt me to keep writing! It's reviews like yours that get me going and I'm like neck deep in this series again! I forgot how much I love writing it.

**RandomMoonshadow -** Thank you! I kind of fell in love with the Colonel too. I love small people who can hold their own.

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**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Plastic Jesus**

****Cash****

"She looks like a little kidney bean cozied up in a blue binky," he remarked as they stood around the sleeping babies.

"She's a killer in disguise," Merle argued lightly, gingerly touching the little girl child's hand with his finger.

"She has Daryl's grump face," Glenn added.

"You're all gonna see my grump face if you don't back the hell away from her," Daryl broke in, heading towards them from the doorway, pack on his shoulder. "Grace just got her down…"

"You heading somewhere?" Merle rasped.

Daryl reached into the crib and adjusted Scout's blanket gently, ignoring his brother.

Rocking back on one foot, Cash watched the two Dixon's curiously, before glancing over at Glenn who was also watching them with a concentrated gaze.

"Merle, I need to talk to you," Daryl muttered to his brother. "Alone," he added, glaring at Cash and Glenn.

"Aw, shit no," Cash griped. "I ain't going nowhere. I live here too."

"How'd you like to live in the infirmary for a month, dick?" Merle snarled.

"Touch me, you big brute, and I'll tattle to that nun you're sweet on."

Merle raised his fist and Cash ducked away from it, bouncing behind Glenn.

"See that?" He bragged to his brother. "I'm growing. Last year I would have pegged that little dick."

"Real character development, Merle," Glenn congratulated dryly.

"What's up, baby bro?" Merle asked.

Again Daryl was quiet, before leaning in close to his brother and saying, "I need you to watch Scout for a few days."

"Where you going?" Cash demanded.

Both Dixon's glared hard at him.

Inhaling deeply, Merle said, "I'd like to help, little brother, but I hate kids. Can't stand them."

"I like them," Cash provided. "But my hourly rate is high for babysitting."

Glenn stepped to the side to give Merle a shot at Cash, but the bigger man didn't take it, eyeing Cash quietly, before turning back to his brother.

"I figured you'd get a fire lit under you eventually."

"Well, I'm not sitting around anymore, if she's not back then something happened and I'm not fucking around," Daryl said.

As the two Dixon's strode from the room, Cash and Glenn waited for a beat, before Cash stretched languidly and yawned.

"Well," he said, scratching his gut, "that doesn't concern me."

Roaming out from behind Glenn, the blonde headed for the door, hoping to dig up a snack before bedtime.

Inside the kitchen he found Layla, Milton and Herschel, all three talking lightly to each other as Layla moved about the kitchen washing the after dinner dishes with a quiet Sister Ruth and Carl.

Easing down at the table, Cash picked up one of the cans of apple sauce left there for snacking purposes from their last season's harvest and opened it.

"What's on the discussion board?" He asked, using his finger as a spoon to scoop out the sweet puree.

"Children," Herschel said.

"For or against?"

"Milton was saying about…" Layla paused. She was learning English fast, but struggled from time to time with words.

"I was telling Layla how better our chances are of surviving as a clan, if we bear plenty of offspring now."

"Get while the gettin's good, I feel you," Cash stated, sucking on his fingers.

"I think," Layla said, standing beside him. "We should bear a child, yes?"

Cash laughed. "You're getting your English confused again, darling. Yes means a positive, no means a negative. We should bear a child, no!"

"I am positive we should bear a child." Layla said. "Yes."

Laughing again, Cash scooped up more applesauce. "What are you spreading around here, Milton? You little pencil necked geek?"

"It's for the good of the continuation of the group," Milton stated. "We carry on through our predecessors. If the country, if the world rebuilds, we would like to be considered founding members. We could hold a lot of influence."

"Who's this we, jackass?"

"It's for the best."

Licking the applesauce with smacking lips, Cash eyed Layla who stood so primly at his side and said, "you don't let men breed you, okay?"

"Just you." She said.

"Well," Cash pushed to his feet with a grunt, taking his jar of applesauce with him, "I gotta see a man about not being here."

Moving down the dark main hall of the dorm, he stepped out into the light of the convent lawns and paused near Merle and Daryl who were still debating together.

Lighting some of Delgado's tobacco in a pipe, Cash stood nearby and eavesdropped for lack of anything better to do.

"I'm not waiting around forever," Daryl growled. "Sitting on my ass while she's out there!"

"I'm not stopping you," Merle said. "But if something has happened to your little girl's mama and then something happens to you, who do you think is gonna raise her? It ain't gonna be me. Shit, you think I ducked all those paternity suits for fun? Hell no!"

The thought that there could be some young Dixon's still out in the world running free scared Cash a little and he grimaced.

"I know," Daryl replied.

"The Eagles," Cash murmured.

The two men turned on him with hard looks.

Not intending to be heard, Cash blinked, before explaining. "He's already gone…is the joke." Cautiously he approached the men. "Look, Carol's gone, Fate's gone, Grace is out of commission until she recovers, with Daryl gone we'll be short some leaders."

"I'm not a fucking leader," Daryl snarled. "How the fuck many times does that need saying?"

"Sure we have Rick, but somedays I swear he's two T's without any crosses." Cash went on calmly. "But you're going, we can't stop you."

Merle glowered in disgust at Cash, before shrugging. "Tennessee walking retard has a point."

"I have feelings, Merle," Cash replied evenly.

"Eat shit," Merle shot back quickly. "Look," he addressed his brother again, "go, but…be careful. Alright?"

Daryl nodded.

"Take dipshit with you," Merle added.

"Roadtrip!" Cash exclaimed, thrusting his arms up into the air, holding his pipe high.

"No," Daryl rejected the idea.

"Come on?" Cash dropped his arms and his pipe and had to stoop down to gather it up.

"Look," Merle reasoned. "You're leaving me here to watch over the tribe with crazy assed Rick the dick, I think you should suffer a little too."

"I'll take Glenn," Daryl tried.

"Cash," Merle argued. "Glenn is too valuable around here."

"Hey," Cash whined. "Come on, man. That hurts me."

"Is that the bargain we're making?" Daryl asked, defeated.

"Yep," Merle grunted. "You want me to watch over your small squid, then you gotta take Cash for back up."

"We got married in a fever," Cash started singing lowly, his goal now to just piss both Dixon's off for treating him like chattel. "Hotter than a pepper sprout…"

"You can't go!" Grace declared from behind them.

The three men turned to find her standing in the dorm doorway, looking pale and sickly as ever, St. James hovering over her as usual.

"I have to, it's been too long," Daryl said.

"We can't have a bunch of our people out there, wandering about loose," Grace argued.

"We can't afford to lose any either!" Daryl snarled. "That's Carol out there! And your man, don't you care at all?!"

Almost breathless, Grace slumped against the doorframe of the dorms and huffed.

St. James was quick to catch her, holding her up.

"She has no strength to fight," he declared for her. "Just go! Good luck!"

Grace tried to protest.

Worried for her, Cash took a step in her direction, but was shoved by Merle after his baby brother.

"Watch out for his ass," Merle ordered.

With his eyes still on Grace, Cash nodded.

"What's wrong with her?" He called out to St. James as Merle moved to get the ex-nun into the dorms.

"Infection," St. James replied before they ducked inside.

Cash frowned at the empty doorway for a moment, before turning to catch up with Daryl who was already halfway to the gate.

****Carol****

They had decided to split up for the rest of the day to get familiar with the layout of the place.

The Lieutenant was handling the secure areas, open only to military personnel, so she took to the tent city outside the main building.

The people weren't strange to her, they smiled and greeted her politely. But there was a stand-offish quality about them, like they didn't trust her quite yet. And that was completely understandable, she probably looked wild with her well washed clothes, beaten by hand for months before they rigged up electricity at the convent, muddied from their misadventure, still proudly worn.

She wanted to stand out. There was something strange to her about going back to cute little slip on shoes and capris.

As she passed by a particularly large tent she heard raised voices and stopped, curious to witness all she could.

"I don't give a goddamn if he's the Prince of Denmark, he's not even getting an empty cartridge from me!" A feminine voice declared. "You can tell him to come down here and pry my munition from my cold, dead hands!"

"Come on, Connolly, don't make my day worse. Just give me a few rounds."

"Fuck you, Vecchio, and fuck your Major-General!"

"Come on, he's gonna chew my ass out if I return empty handed—"

"You linger in here and I will cut your dick off, get out!"

"Okay," a new voice broke in calmly. "May I suggest something—"

"You shut your fuckhole, pipsqueak! Do I look like I'm fucking with you? Does my face read bitch?"

"Right now it does," Vecchio grumbled.

"Oh, you did not just fuck with me today!"

Peeking into the tent, Carol spied a fierce looking woman facing off against the men, her black hair smoothed back into a tight bun, her dark eyes flashing hellfire.

"Connolly, just…be cool for once, okay? Gauthier rides our asses every time you give us grief," the calmer man said.

"Well, maybe Gauthier should fucking learn that I can't just hand out shit whenever poor boys come begging at my door!" The woman growled. "And you both better back the fuck off!"

A movement in the corner of her eyes caught Carol's attention, as well as the woman's. They both glanced over as Colonel Kravitz strolled by, clipboard in hand.

"Colonel!" Connolly called out.

Stopping short, as though expecting her to call him to a halt, Colonel Kravitz entered the tent, clasping his board before him primly.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"You're in charge of personnel here, aren't you?" Connolly demanded.

"I…yes."

"Good, then tell these two personnels to get out of my tent before I castrate them."

Furrowing his brow a little, the Colonel flashed a nervous, crooked grin at the men, asking, "you gentlemen have requisition forms?"

"The Major-General shouldn't need them," Vecchio growled, glaring hard at Connolly.

"Well," the Colonel drew both lips between his teeth in thought, before releasing them and shrugging. "Sergeant, there's nothing we can do. Rules are rules."

"Rules _are_ rules, aren't they? Do you hear that, gentlemen? Rules are fucking rules! Get out of my tent with your bullshit!"

Grumbling, the men left, passing by Carol who lingered long enough to be spied by the Colonel.

"You know we should get a drink sometime, Colonel," Connolly said. "You're alright."

"Thank you, Connolly," the Colonel replied, motioning Carol into the tent.

She stepped inside tentatively.

"Sergeant Zoya Connolly, this is Carol Vancoughnett, wife of one of our new Marine recruits."

"Oh," the woman said. "Another Marine walks among us. This is indeed a red letter day," she beamed and offer Carol her hand. "How are you finding the place?"

"It's…different," she admitted.

"I can tell you're not fitting in yet, huh?" The woman asked. "Still haven't changed your clothes."

"I…wear them with pride," Carol replied.

"I see that," Connolly said. "Tonight, I'll take you out, introduce you to some of the women on base. They'd love to meet you, I'm sure."

Carol smiled. It would be a perfect chance to get gossip about the place. "I'd like that, thank you!"

"And I'll find you something nice to wear," the woman added with a laugh.

Glancing to her side where the Colonel had previously stood, she found it empty and frowned.

"Oh, he does that! Busy man, Colonel Kravitz."

"But he's nice, right?" Carol asked, hoping to get right down to the gossip.

"Oh, sure! Colonel Kravitz is one of the best loved officers here! He's a sweet guy, quiet and patient, but I wouldn't fuck with him. I've seen him take down men twice his size."

Filing that away, Carol looked about the tent. "You said you're in requisitions, where's all the weapons?"

Sergeant Connolly smiled. "I'm not at liberty to say. All I can tell you, as a civilian, is that I just the forms here. This is the paperwork tent."

"Of course, sorry. I…I've been outside in the real world so long, I forgot about rules and regulations."

"Must have been hard," the woman said.

"I," Carol hesitated, before saying, "I want to go home."

"Really? Back out there?" Connolly demanded.

Shrugging, Carol said, "I fit in there."

Tsking, Connolly touched her arm and replied, "we'll fit you in here. Just takes some time, I'm sure. They put you in the main building?"

"Yes, in the basement."

"Yeah, we like to try out all the new recruits there for a while, until we're sure of their loyalty. They'll move you to the tent city soon enough, so enjoy the luxury."

"Do they do that to all the newcomers?"

"Sure, we all did it." The woman fell silent for a moment, gazing over Carol's head.

The tall figure of Major-General Gauthier stood there in the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, chest puffed out a little.

"Major-General, sir," Connolly greeted.

"Sergeant," the man began, "I'm beginning to think you turn my men down so often because you like my visits."

"That didn't take long for them to run and tattle to you, sir," Connolly shot back.

Reaching into his pocket, the Major-General withdrew a paper. "Requisition forms for the supplies we need."

Taking the form, Connolly read them over, before smiling sweetly up at the man. "And…you just happened to have them on you?"

"My men didn't take them, I didn't have them then, a runner just brought them by."

"Uh-huh," the woman replied. "Well, watch me as I bend over, that's what you came for, isn't it, sir?"

As the woman bent over with the paper to tuck it into a folder, the Major-General pointedly looked away, in Carol's direction.

Her eyes met his cold, olive oil green eyes and they held the gaze for a long, almost awkward moment.

In this moment, Carol tried to place the man's race. He was sort of golden skinned, but didn't look like he was any of the Nordic races or even of African descent. He might have been Latino, but again he didn't quite fit.

Gauthier? That was a French name, wasn't it? And he did have a bit of an accent, like…he wouldn't be Cajun, would he? Some kind of…no…Carol had no idea, the man didn't make sense in the way he looked or the way he sounded. Nothing seemed easy about him to read.

"Carol, isn't it?" He asked finally.

She nodded, broken from her intense study of him.

"Okay!" Connolly chirped. "Requisition filed. You should have your supplies by morning."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

"And…next time, sir," she added with a cheeky grin. "You can just swing on by, you don't need an excuse."

The Major-General blinked at her for a moment, before he turned and stalked towards the door, he paused and turned back. "Maybe I enjoy when you tear into my men, Sergeant. They always return pale and shaking."

"You sadist, sir," she returned with a grin.

As soon as the man left, Connolly licked her lips and said, "I would climb that redwood like a squirrel."

Carol looked at the opening to the tent long after the man had gone. "What's he like?"

"I don't know, he's a strange one, doesn't talk much. Think he doesn't mean to come off as an asshole, but…he's seen some shit out there. Fucked him up bad, I think."

"We've all seen shit," Carol said, turning back to face the black woman.

"I mean, he's seen some _shit_," Connolly emphasized the word. "But I'll tell you one thing, if I could choose a soldier to lead our men outside these walls, it'd be him and I'm glad it is."


	29. Mademoiselle from Armentieres

**Claire Randall Fraser -** I have some good secondary's coming up here. But thanks! I kind of like when my secondary's get some appreciation. I put so much love into crafting them.

**alibabwa** \- I know, it's the last book in this series, so of course things need to get bad.

**stargazr41** \- Thank you! I appreciate the review! And yes, Daryl's out and about now...going to have his own adventure soon enough.

**delenadreamer16** \- I have returned to this story, so yes it will be updated more frequently now. I sort of lost interest in it, but I've returned with a vengeance. Thanks for the review!

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**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Mademoiselle from Armentieres**

****The Lieutenant ****

"Alright, so let's pretend that I saluted you, what would that get me?"

It was halfway through his first day of active 'service' and he was shoved in a glorified broom closet counting supplies with a pipsqueak named Brandt who outranked him and didn't let him forget it.

"I should write you up for insubordination," Brandt grumbled, stepping into their cubbyhole with his clipboard. "You salute a superior when they come and go, you know that."

"I also know about ten randy songs from the First World War, wanna hear one?"

"I'm growing tired of this attitude, Lieutenant," Brandt stated, the shorter man invading his personal space like an angry little dog barking at a man's ankle.

"Mademoiselle from Armentieres. Parlez-vous? Mademoiselle from Armentieres. Parlez-vous? Mademoiselle from Armentieres, she hasn't been kissed for forty years. Hinky-dinky parlez-vous," he began to sing idly as he counted cotton swabs.

"Stop that!" Brandt growled. "No singing!"

"She might have been old for all we knew. Parlez-vous? She might have been old for all we knew. Parlez-vous? She might have been old for all we knew when Napoleon flopped at Waterloo. Hinky-dinky parlez-vous?"

"I'm writing you up, Lieutenant!"

"For what, sir?"

"Singing."

"Well, if I'm getting written up I may as well get my fill of it…" the Lieutenant returned with a grin as Brandt's face turned red.

"You might forget the gas and shell. Parlez-vous? You might forget the gas and shell. Parlez-vous? You might forget the gas and shell but you'll never forget the mademoiselle. Hinky-dinky parlez-vous?"

"That's it! You're off duty until further notice!" Brandt shouted.

"For what?" The Lieutenant demanded, waiting a pause just to add to the insult, before saying, "sir."

"For singing!"

"Is quiet while counting supplies a rule written in the guidebook or are you just making things up, sir?" He demanded.

"That's it! You're officially reprimanded!" Brandt declared, waving his hand in the Lieutenant's face. "I'm reporting this, right now!"

As the man stormed out, Fay turned back to his work and quietly went about counting.

"He'll actually report you, you know?" The pretty red head in corner said as she counted her own shelf of supplies.

"Ah well, I wouldn't blame him. I do make a pretty godawful subordinate," he returned with a charming grin.

She smiled back.

"Fate," he greeted.

"Is that a name or are you declaring this meeting to be kismet?" She inquired, juggling her own clipboard in order to take his offered hand.

"Depends on how nice you are to me," he said.

"Clarice," she returned.

"As in Clarice 'fava beans and nice chianti' Starling?" He teased.

"As in Manchester."

"That's a made up name!" He declared playfully.

"I wish it was!" She chuckled.

They went about their work quietly for a bit, the Lieutenant eyeing her and the other Marine in the supply closet with them. He was a shaky young man with grey under his eyes and a waxy look.

"What's with the boy?" He asked softly.

Clarice looked over at him. "That's Wen, they put him in here."

"I see that," he replied. "Little shaky, huh?"

"Yeah."

"What about you?" He demanded of the young man who sat counting bars of soap at a nearby table.

"Not shaky," the man replied. "Just mouthy, I guess."

"A man after my own heart," the Lieutenant said. "You have a name?"

"Peter Knight, sir."

"Now that's a made up name," he teased.

The younger man laughed. "I swear, sir."

"And you're all Privates?"

"Yes, sir."

"None of that stuff, I'm on the bottom rung with you all now, may as well knock it off with the 'sir'."

"Yes, sir."

Turning to the shaky looking young man, he asked, "and Wen? What's that short for? Wendell?"

"Wenceslas," the young man stated softly.

"Now that's made up!" The Lieutenant exclaimed. "Sounds like you should be European royalty or something with a name like that! Please tell me your last name isn't Tudor or something?"

The young man smiled a little, head still bent to his work. "Smith."

"I knew a boy back home, you remind me of him, named Jack. You know a Jack?"

The young man shook his head.

"Mind if I call you Jack, son?"

"No, sir."

"You like Jack for a name?"

"Better than Wenceslas, sir."

"No 'sirs' here, you can call me Fate, sound good?"

"Sure."

Captain Brandt came in like a bull, Colonel Kravitz behind him.

There was a look of triumph in the younger man's eyes as he stood with his chest puffed out by the door as the Colonel approached the Lieutenant.

Winking quickly at the man, Lafayette saluted the Colonel rigidly and stood at attention, until dismissed by a wave of the Colonel's hand.

"Captain Brandt says you've been insubordinate towards his authority?" The Colonel asked softly.

Frowning, the Lieutenant said, "_mais_, this is a serious matter. What are the charges, sir?"

"He was singing, sir!" Brandt declared.

Colonel Kravitz quirked a brow. "Singing?"

"I was, sir," the Lieutenant confessed. "I apologize, but I work a lot faster when I sing 'God Bless America', puts an extra bounce in my step, sir. I'm sorry for my patriotism. If it bothers the Captain that much, I can most certainly keep my love for my country to myself."

"He wasn't singing 'God Bless America'!" Brandt shouted. "He was singing some dumb assed song about some old French bitch!"

"And your superior asked you to stop singing, Lieutenant?" Kravitz asked.

"Yes he did, sir. I'm very sorry for singing 'God Bless America', I thought of all times, now more than ever we need it, don't we, sir?"

"Private Manchester, did you witness this incident?" Colonel Kravitz asked.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Was he in key at least?" Kravitz teased.

"He's got a fine singing tenor, sir," she pointed out.

"Colonel—" Brandt began.

"We'll, ah, discuss this in my office, Captain. Fair enough?"

Brandt's face turned red.

Turning a little to face the man, Kravitz said, "now, Captain."

It wasn't a request, the man's tone turning icy and dark.

It scared even Lafayette a little and he cleared his throat.

As Brandt slunk out, Kravitz turned back to the others in the room.

"Laying it on a little thick, Lieutenant," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"I love my country, sir, that's all," he returned.

"Um-hm, try to show Brandt a little more respect, perhaps? For my sake?"

"I'll do my best, Colonel."

Turning sharply, Kravitz wandered off, clipboard in hand.

As the door closed behind the Colonel, Lafayette turned to his fellow bean counters and grinned.

"Hinky-dinky parlez-vous," he sang smugly, before getting back to work.

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"_Cher_, I'm home!" He exclaimed, sweeping into the broom closet of a room they shared.

She looked up from where she sat reading a book on the upper bunk.

"Oh, right, not my wife…and it's a broom closet," he joked, easing his weary bones onto the lower bunk with a sigh.

"How was your day?" She inquired, slipping from her bunk to sit down at his side.

"Long and boring, I forgot how much I hated conventional military work, so much rules and bullshit politics. I think my superior has a crush on me, he keeps fighting with me, but I think it's love and he just doesn't know how to express himself, poor baby." He murmured from beneath his arm as he draped it across his eyes. "I mean, I can't blame him, I'm pretty fantastic."

"Well, while you were doing your due duty, I was scoping out the place," she said softly, still worried about being monitored somehow.

Easing back against his hip, she went on, "they don't keep their weapons and ammunition in the tent city, but somewhere in this building."

"Who's in charge of the supply req's then?" He murmured, still buried beneath his arm.

Flopping onto his stomach, she lay there, feet on the floor. "Sergeant Connolly."

"Army?"

"Yes. She's coming by tonight to take me out, introduce me to some of the women on base."

"Good," he said. "I can take a nap."

Carol poked him in the ribs.

"Ooh-ye-yi!" He grumbled playfully, rubbing the spot she had assaulted.

"Am I doing all the work then?" She demanded.

He grinned charmingly at her. "_Mais_, I can put a skirt on and join you ladies if you want."

"I mean, you could make friends too, you know?"

"I _could_ make friends, but I hate military personnel."

"I'm not going to be the ant to your grasshopper," she stated.

"What?" He demanded.

"The fable?" She suggested.

"What the hell is a fable?"

"Never mind."

"And who the hell said you could use me as a pillow?" He demanded lightly, eyes twinkling, poking her in the ribs until she stood up. Snuggling deep into his bunk, he murmured, "just…you know…fill me in."

Pausing by the doorway, Carol turned back to him. "You aren't dumb enough to not know what a fable is."

"Of course I know what a fable is," he returned. "And I am helping, you just can't see it right now."

She came back quietly, moving like a cat on gentle feet. "What are your plans?"

"I figure, if I piss off my CO enough he might put in to get me discharged, they might kick us out if I'm not longer a Marine…especially if they really are playing by the books."

She smiled sadly.

Reaching out he took hold of her hand and warmly squeezed it. "Don't worry, mama, we'll get you home to your baby girl."

Carol nodded.

"And you be careful tonight," he said, releasing her hand. "Anything you get going, you make sure you leave me out of it so I can play dumb with Daryl."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, _ange_, you said it yourself, you're going to get closer to that Major-General."

She was quiet.

Opening his eyes, he met her gaze with a solid, almost reassuring look. "You gotta do what you gotta do to get back to your family. But I can't lie to Daryl, so keep me clear of it, yeah?"

"Do you think me awful for it?" She inquired.

"Of course not," he stated. "If there was a lady higher up than him, I'd be on that like stank on a trucker's ass. You're not the only one who wants to go home, darling. I have a little boy I've only ever held once."

Carol sat down at his side again, still quiet.

"You know what," he said with a sigh, propping himself up on his elbows. "Fuck it, you need to talk, you can talk to me. Daryl will…just have to not know these things."

"Kind of like we're still in the well," she replied softly.

He smiled. "Yeah, we're still down the rabbit hole."

Flopping back, he yawned and said, "I'll tell you one thing. When get out of here, I'm never wearing a goddamned uniform again…military types keep sniffing around me like I'm the last single girl before prom."

"It's because you're a triple threat," she stated.

"Who told you that?" He demanded.

"I've heard it said. What does it mean?"

"I'm handsome, charming and tall," he teased with a grin. "Triple threat."

This managed to coax a small grin from her and he poked at her ribs again playfully, still too lazy to sit up.

"Listen," he said finally, looking at her with a comforting sobriety in his eyes. "Maybe if I piss off Brandt enough, you may not even have to do anything untoward with this Major-General pain in the ass."

"Just don't make him too angry, this place might not be so 'by-the-book' as they claim."

He nodded. "I know, that's my worry too."

"Well, I should get ready, Sergeant Connolly said she'd bring some dresses by for me to try on."

The Lieutenant furrowed his brows. "Just how fancy is this going out you're doing?"

Carol shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't worn a dress…since my wedding?"

"Jesus Lord," the Lieutenant gasped. "I'm honoured to be the first and only one still alive to witness this momentous event."

"You aren't going to see me in it," she stated.

"Oh? You're changing in the hall then? I'm sure those military boys will get a nice eyeful."

"I will be changing in the ladies shower room." She said as she stood up, just as a knock came to the door. "That's probably Connolly now," she pointed out, answering the door.

The Lieutenant sat up with a grin and eyed the door eagerly as Carol let Connolly into their closet.

"I brought a few dresses," Connolly said before she noticed the Lieutenant on the bunk. "Oh, you must be Lieutenant Vancoughnett."

"I must be," he replied. "Otherwise some strange man is just sitting in my bed, chatting up my wife."

"We'll change in the shower rooms," Carol said. "You can find me something there."

"Oh, you can change here, my love," the Lieutenant exclaimed with a cheeky grin. "I'd kind of like to see you in a pretty new dress, gives me tingles just thinking about it."

Carol gave him a warning look over Connolly's shoulder as the younger woman laid out the dresses on a small metal desk.

Standing up, he towered over the two women from behind and beamed. "Oooh, wear that tight red one, it's pretty!"

Pushing him away with her hand against his chest, Carol gave him another hard warning look.

"I'll wear the white one," she said to Connolly.

"Oh, but darling, I like you in red," the Lieutenant declared.

"I think Carol's right, I wasn't sure about red on her anyways…maybe the brown one?"

"Brown's nice if you're a hippie," the Lieutenant teased, still hovering over them both.

"Maybe I am?" Carol demanded, giving him another warning look that could cut glass. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Maybe I like hippies," the Lieutenant argued. "Didn't say being a brown wearing hippie is a bad thing…"

"I'll try the white one," Carol said. "Thank you."

Connolly smiled as Carol picked up the white dress and said, "we'll change in the shower room. I can do your make up there too, if you'd like."

"I don't…wear a lot of make up," Carol said.

The Lieutenant watched this exchange with a tiny smirk, leaning against a nearby wall. Well, any wall in their closet room was nearby, he supposed.

"I don't know how late we'll be," Carol addressed him.

It took him a moment to slip into husband mode and he smiled. "That's fine, my love, you be careful tonight, yeah?"

She nodded.

"Break some hearts," he added with a wink, moving to kiss her cheek appropriately in character.

Again she nodded.

"It was nice to meet you, Lieutenant," Connolly said. "You're not at all what I imagined."

"Oh? You imagined me, huh?"

Connolly laughed. "Marine boys, you know? All of them are puffed up peacock's, strutting around chasing tail."

The Lieutenant laughed. "Is that what we are? Good God! I've been away far too long from the service!"

As the women headed out the door, he called after them, "_ange_!"

Carol turned back.

"You watch out for those Marine boys, I hear they're terrible."

She smiled. "They are."


	30. Running On Empty

**Claire Randall Fraser - **I have to agree with you. It seems Fate is just one of those hot commodity types. In short supply and high demand. ^_^

**daisylou2013 - **I won't lie. I can't stop them with the flirting thing (and I kind of like it too). I think...the Lt is just naturally flirtatious. He doesn't mean anything by it, it's just how he is.

**RandomMoonshadow - **You should. This is the last book after all.

**delenadreamer16 - **I'll miss the Marine gear when it's gone too. But dammit, he just always gets into trouble wearing it!

**stargazr41 - **I think Fate see's Carol as an extension of his brotherhood with Daryl. She's his little sister and he would do anything for her. I also think he respects Carol a lot and enjoys their friendship.

**As always, I appreciate every review I get! You have no idea!**

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**Chapter Thirty: Running On Empty**

****Carol****

Their destination that night was a particular tent among the tent city, near the edge where the noise that flooded out from it wouldn't disturb the residents of the makeshift base.

Feeling out of place in her white dress and somewhat heels, she fought the urge to fidget, knowing it would look like a nervous weakness to the others.

She wouldn't be nervous tonight. She would do what had to be done to get home, that was it. It sounded simple in her head.

"So, how long have you been married?" Connolly asked as they headed for the tent.

"Sorry?" Carol asked, too busy taking in the rows and rows of tents they passed, trying to keep track of where they were and where they were heading.

"You and your husband? How long?"

"Oh," she panicked mildly. Had the Lieutenant told anyone another story? Maybe they should have discussed that. To be honest, them playing house was the last thing on her mind, all she could think of was escape. "Eight years," she pulled out of her ass smoothly.

"You still seem like newlyweds," Connolly said. "It's cute."

"Oh, believe me," she said. "That teasing of his can wear you down fast."

There. If she had to do something, that way she could establish that her marriage with the Lieutenant was on the rocks.

"That's a damned shame," the woman said as they stepped into the noisy tent. "He's cute as hell."

Shocked by the noise and the flashing lights and the smell of liquor, Carol cringed.

Maybe she had been living at a convent for too long, but it was not really her kind of place.

Already, she regretted her decision.

Thoughts of her family pushed her onwards, however, into the heart of the tent.

She kept her eye out for any opportunity, but saw nothing but a crowd of faces.

As they approached a table of women, Carol was introduced about the table, but missed half the names due to the noise.

"You look nervous!" One of the woman shouted at her.

"Not really a party type," she explained.

"Dance!" One of the women exclaimed, climbing up and holding her hands out to the others encouraging them onto the dancefloor.

Carol took that chance to ask where the bathrooms were and was directed back outside to the port-a-potty's stood behind the tent.

Outside in the cool, quiet night air, she exhaled and reconsidered her decision.

"Hey," someone said from her left in the shadows by the tent.

Glancing over she spied a strange soldier standing there in full dress uniform, cigarette in hand, leaning against a nearby stack of canvas covered supplies. He was good looking, but a deep scar that sliced through his upper and lower lip on the right side of his face marred his looks, though Carol didn't think it detracted any from them. Gave him more dignity if possible, especially when coupled with the uniform.

His age could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty, his elfish face looked youthful, but at the same time carried himself like a man who had seen enough of the world to know all it's sticky corners.

"Hello," she replied.

"Kick ass party, huh?" He asked in a Northern tone, with none of the twang of the South.

She frowned, cautiously keeping near the entrance where people were coming and going, not daring to move close to the strange man. He looked amiable enough, but something about the sparkle in his eyes read danger.

"I…it's not for me, I suppose."

"Yeah."

They fell into an awkward silence, before Carol asked, "have we met?"

"No," he returned, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and eyeing it. "These cigarettes are dry as hell. I really should quit. They're getting harder and harder to find."

"Yeah, you should," she scolded lightly, playing along with his overly familiar tone. "You know they'll kill you."

He shrugged and tossed the cigarette down, stamping it out under his well-polished shoe. "Wouldn't want to die," he stated with a charming, easy grin. "I'm too pretty to be a shuffler."

She smiled a little, still wary about him.

"It's all bullshit, you know?" The man said suddenly, like someone dropping a ten pound stone.

"Life?" She guessed.

"This reality they have going on here."

"Oh?"

"I mean, it's elitist," he pointed out. "Won't let the civilians in, but they'll tell you to your face that they're saving those civilians. And then what? Look at this boozed up flea circus. And what do they do with the bodies?"

"Tell me about it," she played along, wondering what bodies he was talking about.

"I've been watching you, you know?" He returned casually. "All day."

Carol's brow puckered.

"Oh, you wouldn't have seen me," he stated with another one of his easy grins. "A lot of people never do."

"Am I in trouble?" She asked softly, playing the dumb card.

"They didn't have me watching you, don't worry," he said.

"So it's just a hobby of yours?" She teased a little.

The man smiled secretively and pushed off from the crates. "And then he swaggered off into the night, just a little bit drunk…"

Staring after him quietly for a moment, she jumped when someone spoke from behind her, hand moving for the knife she no longer had.

"Sorry," Connolly said with a grin. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you! I just wanted to make sure you found the biffy alright."

"Who is that man?" She asked, pointing to where the uniformed officer had stopped to chat with a couple of friendly, soused women who were on their way to the tent. By the lilt of his scarred mouth, she knew he was chatting them up with honeyed words and a charmingly smooth voice.

"The one in the blues?" Connolly asked.

"Yeah, he spoke to me, seemed nice," she lied. In truth the man seemed dangerous.

"That's Major Devlin."

"What does he do around here?"

"I don't know," Connolly said.

Carol continued to stare after him as he left, arms around the waists of the two women, head tilted back in jovial laughter that rang off the canvas walls of the tent city.

She didn't know what the hell was up with him just talking to her, openly confessing to following her around all day like he was chatting about the weather. And something he said, something he called the base, stuck with her.

Flea circus?

It didn't really make sense to her.

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****The Lieutenant****

With nothing to do by himself in a small closet, Lafayette headed down to where they had been shown the workout room and stepped inside, intent on working himself into a later in order to get a better rest than he had the night before.

The place was dead empty, the neon lights turning it into a surreal landscape of still equipment and weight stands.

Changing into the sweats provided in the men's change room to his right, he left his shirt off and found a pullup stand.

After about twenty minutes of doing L pullups to the bar, the door opened and a figure stepped inside.

They headed for the changing room so quickly that he missed their face.

Taking a break, Lafayette dropped to the floor and panted.

He was getting fat and out of shape just holing himself away in a nunnery.

Making a mental note to workout more when he got home, he peeked over in the direction of the change room as Major General Gauthier emerged dressed down, towel over his shoulder.

It was awkward when the man's steps faltered as Fate stood and stared back at him. That feeling of seeing one's boss away from work came over Fate and he mildly panicked over whether to say something to the man or not.

He opted for the friendly route and picked up his own towel, heading towards where the Major General had taken up a spot at one of the rowing machines.

"Is it usually this dead in here?" Lafayette greeted the man in his best dumb Cajun from the bayou backwaters tone.

"A whole lot deader beyond our walls," the man returned dryly in a tone that gave Fate a clear 'fuck off' vibe.

Feeling like he was reading a 'choose your own adventure' book and had picked the wrong page, Fate shifted on his feet and thought about retreating gracefully.

But his finger was already removed from the bookmark and he went forth boldly, taking a seat at the rowing machine beside the Major General's.

They worked out in silence for a moment, before Fate asked, "so, where are you from?"

"Are we really doing this?" The man growled gruffly.

Lafayette slowed his rowing, before shrugging. "Sorry."

Rowing for a while longer, the Major General licked his bottom lip and then said, "I was born in Tel Aviv."

"That's…Israel, right?"

"Yeah."

They both rowed in silence.

"Can you become a—"

"I served in the armed forces and got my citizenship through my service," he said. "That was fifteen years ago."

Clearly this was a bit of a touchy subject for the man as his tone was ice cold.

"How does that work? You were a foreign national?"

"I was recruited in Tel Aviv to do a few things for the embassy there. Sort of fell into recruitment."

"Why?"

"I spoke English, Hebrew, Arabic, Russian and French. Did translating for a lot of military personnel and foreign emissaries."

"Ah," Lafayette said. "You speak French?"

"My father was a photojournalist from Paris, he moved to Israel to cover the Six Day War. He ended up in Tel Aviv where he met my mother." Sighing, the man demanded. "I suppose what we're doing is bonding, is it?"

"Makes the work out go faster," the Lieutenant said.

Gauthier was quiet, scowling at his feet as he rowed. "Where are you from?" He barked commandingly as though small talk didn't come easy to him.

His tone almost gave Lafayette the impression that whatever he said, 'steers and queers' were going to be the main exports of that geographic location.

"Louisiana, a small town called Basile."

"I've been there," Gauthier said.

"Shit no, really?"

The man nodded once firmly. "No lie. You have a Swine Festival, I was curious."

Fate beamed broadly and stopped rowing. "Jesus! That would be Basile!"

"But you speak thicker, with more of an accent, I'd imagine you migrated from deeper south?"

"Lake Charles is where my grandparents were from, they raised me to speak."

"Cajun is a beautiful language."

"Thank you," Lafayette said sincerely. "A lot of people mock us Cajun's."

"I won't." The man also stopped rowing and turned to him. "I see no fault in accents."

"I respect that, sir," Lafayette said sincerely.

Gauthier went back to rowing, before saying, "I heard you were giving Brandt grief."

"I…a little."

"He got promoted on the field," Gauthier explained. "From what I gather he was basically the last man standing. Not at all cut out for the rank, too cocky."

They both rowed in silence.

"I have no real power over the Marine Corps forces here at the base," Gauthier said. "But I'll put in to have Brandt taken out with a squad of his own. Seems you two will only serve to aggravate one another until sparks become a raging forest fire."

"I'm not looking for special treatment, sir," Lafayette said.

"Being stuck in the supply closet is not special treatment."

They rowed on in silence once more, before the Major General came back with. "Your wife is very small."

"Yes, she is."

The sounds of their workout filled the room.

"Do you love her?" Came the awkward question from what Lafayette was beginning to realize was an awkward man.

The Lieutenant paused. He knew Carol wanted to play them like a couple with a marriage on the rocks, so that nothing would really stand in her way if worse came to worst.

"We…have our moments," he said, struggling to think of a reason for them to be on the outs. "Sometimes she…doesn't get me. I suppose. I try, you know? But she…I dunno, sorry. You probably are the last person interested in hearing about my marriage."

Pushing up, Gauthier left his machine, wiping it down quickly, before heading for the treadmills.

Lafayette followed.

They ran for a good thirty minutes, before Gauthier said, "you're in good shape, Lieutenant."

Trying hard not to puff and pant, Lafayette said, "sure. I get my workout in."

This produced only the smallest, atomic level smiles, twitching the corner of Gauthier's mouth.

Another thirty minutes of running, the Major General said, "you know, they say the best workout for the heart is sex."

Grinning, Lafayette tilted his head. "Are you thinking of putting in a sex machine, sir?"

Gauthier didn't reply, only increased the pace of his machine.

Not to be outdone, Lafayette did likewise.

After another thirty minutes of extreme paced running, Gauthier shut his machine down and stepped off, reaching for his water bottle and taking a swig, watching the Lieutenant as he tried hard to keep his heart from exploding.

Gauthier offered him a drink from his bottle and he took it gratefully.

"Thanks," he huffed.

"Not doing a lot of distance running on the outside, hm?" The man asked.

"Oh, no, sir. I usually pant like this after a good run because I'm so excited."

This managed to move the whimper of a smirk into a half smile as the Major General gathered up his towel and bottle. "I'm not your superior, Lieutenant. You don't need to call me 'sir'."

"You still outrank me," he argued.

"Call me Oz," the Major General corrected.

"Fate," the Lieutenant replied.

"Fate," the man repeated. "We'd best hit the showers," he said, eyes scanning the Lieutenant from top to bottom. "You worked up a hell of a sweat."

As the man's eyes did another sweep of the Lieutenant's body, he began to get the niggling sense that maybe Carol's plan might be in vain. Something told him the Major General wasn't a ladies man.


	31. Where Did You Sleep Last Night?

Claire Randall Fraser - Oh, Fate won't be too bothered beyond the cheating thing...hopefully it doesn't come to that.

RandomMoonshadow - Poor Merle...give him some credit. He'd probably die laughing first. ^_^

itsi3 - I love that you called Fate 'hunny' it's adorable to me. Keep that up!

delenadreamer16 - I think everyone at this camp are suspicious as all hell...they best watch themselves.

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**Chapter Thirty-One: Where Did You Sleep Last Night?**

****Ryan Kowalski****

"What I really wanna say, mah baby. What I really wanna say is I've got mine, and I'll make it, oh yes I'm coming up."

Dangling his legs over the edge of his brother's treehouse, Ryan kept his eyes on the road, his hands on his rifle.

"Okay, but then how did the fish get in the lakes?" Pace demanded from the other side of him, where he was holding a conversation with Sid who was also helping out on guard duty.

Winter wasn't really the busiest time for the farm, so they always had plenty of eyes in the sky.

"Look, the fish were there when the lakes formed, they didn't migrate."

"But how?"

"Tell Sanchito that if he knows what is good for him he best go run and hide. Daddy's got a new Forty-Five. And I won't think twice to stick that barrel straight down Sancho's throat. Believe me when I say that I got somethin' for his punk ass."

"It just happened. The fish evolved in the lakes, the basins and lakes of the land are old, like real old."

"No, God put them there."

"God is…" Sid sighed. "There is no God."

"You know don't that, science boy." The Texan argued.

"If there was a God, would He have done this to His creation?"

"What I really wanna know, mah baby. Oh, what I really wanna say is there's just one, way back, and I'll make it, yeah. My soul will have to wait, yeah, yeah, yeah." Ryan continued to dangle his legs and check down his scope now and then.

Beside him Charlie caught his attention and motioned to where Vivian was creeping around behind the barn.

Touching his right pointer finger to his forehead, then motioned to Vivian, then resting his hand over his stomach pulled it out, fingers sort of claw like.

_Think she's pregnant?_ He had asked.

Ryan shifted to one side, then holding his pointer finger up facing outwards, Ryan turned it around to face himself, then because he had to hold his rifle with one hand, he used just one to pull out to the side and puffed up his cheeks to get the point across to his brother.

_Or just fat,_ he replied.

Charlie frowned disapprovingly and held up both hands, palms down and swayed them sternly from side to side.

_Behave._

"Alright, then explain Elvis," Pace growled.

"Presley?" Sid demanded.

"Is there any other Elvis?"

"Costello?"

"Don't be facetious," Pace growled.

"That's a twenty dollar word for a ten gallon hat," Sid retorted dryly.

Ryan smiled to himself at the two. Always interesting when they got into their debates.

"What does Elvis have to do with proving God exists?"

"This boy comes along and suddenly rock 'n roll comes alive. You tell me that's not God."

"Elvis didn't-!" Sid barked, before taking a calming inhale. "Elvis didn't give life to rock n' roll. Bo Diddley, Chuck Berry, Muddy Waters, they gave fucking life to rock n' roll. Elvis stole, he was a stealer, a thief. If you want to pray to a god of music, you better get your ass to church and thank Big Mama Thornton."

"What? That—"

"Okay, look," Sid said. "The Animals weren't the first to sing House of the Rising Sun. Elvis didn't come up with Hound Dog all by his lonesome. That's white washed musical history for you!"

"Sid, your ass is a little too white to be making this speech," Ryan scolded lightly.

"Why? I can't educate you poor dumb country boys about a few facts?" Sid demanded. "Did you know we white men literally raped Native American women on our way pushing west as part of our 'Manifest Destiny'? Oh, but yet every fall, here we are eating turkey and thanking each other and God for our blessings? We're the worst."

"When was the last time you ate turkey, jackass?" Pace snarled. "Keep your white guilt to yourself. Shit, I feel bad enough, can I get through a fucking day without you making me feel like more white trash shit? Christ," the man finished with a mutter. "Eve!" He shouted as the black woman passed by on her way after Vivian to check on the woman tending to the horses. "You know I love you, right?"

"Of course, baby."

"I'm sorry for the white man!" The cowboy added.

"Me too," she returned with a small grin.

"Hey, Eve," Ryan called down to her. "Is Vivian okay?"

"Oh, baby, if you have to ask," Eve shouted back.

Ryan frowned in confusion and turned to his brother who made the pregnant gesture again.

Setting his rifle down quickly to hold both hands up to his chest, palms in, Ryan pulled them in and out alternately.

_Whatever._

Picking up his rifle again, Ryan stared down his scope just as a couple of heads bobbed into sight, heading out of the woods opposite the farm lane.

"Got three walking," he warned the others.

Nudging his brother with his elbow to ensure he noticed, Ryan levelled his rifle at the three coming up their lane, sticking to the old oak's.

He spied Delgado come out of nowhere to the group's left, rifle raised. The man moving like a ghost through the tall grass of the yard.

Motioning to his brother to remain in the tree to give him cover, Ryan slipped down from the platform and moved to join Delgado in catching the intruders.

With two rifles coming at them, the three we quick to stop in their tracks, hands up.

"Look, shit," the ginger with the two dollar flat top grunted, "we didn't mean to step on anyone's dick here. Just looking for a mode of transportation."

"You won't find it here," Delgado said. "Best just keep moving."

Ryan smirked at the shaky looking fellow with the mullet who sweated profusely and tried to hide behind the ginger. "Think mullet-head there pissed his pants."

"Jesus fuck, Eugene," the ginger growled.

"It's sweat, I swear," the man stated quickly. "We've been walking a lot."

"It's Georgia in the winter, not that hot," Ryan went on playfully.

"Ryan," Delgado ordered.

The ginger flat-top eyed Delgado quietly, before asking, "you a Marine?"

"Nope," Delgado said. "Keep walking."

"Two more coming at us!" Pace shouted from the tree.

Ryan and Delgado exchanged a quick look, neither one wanting to take their rifles off the newcomers.

"Looks like Daryl and that blond one!" Sid called out.

Relieved it wasn't more strangers, Ryan allowed his eyes to quickly flick up as Daryl and that mouthy one from his group approached, both offering gun cover from the back of the three strangers.

"Hey, these assholes bothering you?" Daryl demanded, holding his crossbow up.

"Not yet."

"Look we just need some fuel or a vehicle and we'll split," the ginger said. "Shit, we'll even trade for a little help."

"Hey!" Cash exclaimed, pointing at the ginger. "You're that dick from the highway!"

The ginger stared at him steadily.

"You were with that one armed man, the Cro-Magnon looking fellow," the mullet-head pointed out.

"Yeah!"

"Still looking for them, huh?" The ginger demanded.

"That's my girl!" Daryl growled.

The ginger leader continued to stare down Daryl's crossbow sights evenly. "Haven't seen her or the fellow she ran off with."

"She didn't run off!" Daryl growled.

"Daryl," Delgado broke in. "It's okay. Best calm down." He looked from Daryl and Cash, to the ginger and his people, to Ryan, before saying. "I suppose we should all have a little meeting here, huh?"

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****Carol****

"Are you going to be okay doing this?"

It was afternoon and the Lieutenant had found time to track her down as she idly wandered the camp, pulling her into an alcove where he told her about his suspicions of the Major-General.

The man smiled easily. "You said it yourself, we might not have to."

"No, but…"

As someone walked by, the man leaned closer to her, forearm on the wall above her head, keeping their conversation confined to the shadows of their little hideaway.

"I don't worry about any of it," he said. "We do what we have to."

She nodded.

"Besides," he added haltingly, as though unsure whether or not to proceed. "Can I tell you something, _ange_?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"Big secret, yeah?"

"Yes."

The Lieutenant chuckled a little nervously. "I…a long time ago, back before I left Louisiana, there was a young man, named Griffin. Sweet boy, kind of shy, soft spoken, didn't really have too many friends. He was in my high school math class, smart, smart boy.

Anyways, after graduation I worked at this little family run hardware store, filling bins with nails and dumb stuff, and uh, this boy comes in. He was home from college, helping his mama fix her front porch steps, nothing really manly or anything about the job, easy you know. So I offer to help him, he was kind of out of his league, trying to buy roofing nails for the job.

I go over to his house, bag of nails in one hand, my toolbox in the other and this boy is sitting on the porch with his mama, she was sick at the time…cancer. And uh, she was wrapped up, on a hot Louisiana day she was wrapped up and he hovered over her sweetly, getting her cold tea and whatever she needed.

So I set to work on this front step, they had rotted away after so many years of lying in the humid air and the house was…must have been about a hundred years old, older. It had the feel of an ancient site. Like the coliseum in Rome or…Stonehenge, so I tried to honour that craftsmanship, I made sure my steps, the stain afterward matched, everything was done properly. I didn't want that poor woman falling through my steps, so I took care and by the time I was done, it was evening and she had retired to bed early.

This boy, Griffin, he sort shyly approaches me and thanks me, offers me some cold tea and something sweet to eat. I was ravenous. I had missed lunch that day and hard work always starves a man faster.

Now, you must know this boy is pretty. Beautiful really, soft pink lips, big green eyes, freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, dusting each cheek. Long, long lashes, fluttering as he blinked rapidly, nervous.

So we sat on his porch and drank cold tea and I gobbled up all his offered sweets, I think he probably thought me a hog the way I tore into them. We talked about this and that, he wasn't really into sports or anything, so I didn't have to pretend I enjoyed football or that, we discussed politics and art. He seemed pleased that I knew a lot of my literature, must have not really had too many people to talk books with.

When I got up to leave, my _Mamere_ was waiting at home and it was getting dark, he suddenly sort of leaped forward and kissed me.

I was so shocked, that by the time I gathered some words together that would make sense, he was already inside, hiding his little head from me."

Carol blinked up at him, entranced by the story. "What happened after that?"

"Well, I went back the next day, wanted to make sure the steps were working out right and he was okay and…turns out he had always had little thing for me and so that summer we…were lovers until he returned to college and we went our ways."

"Lieutenant, you—"

"It shouldn't matter, it doesn't to me, but down here in the steamy south, it does to a lot of people. Usually the most dangerous ones."

"Are you…gay?"

The man laughed jovially. "I have a wife, _ange_!"

"I know but—"

"If you have to put a word to how I am, I would say bisexual?"

Carol was unsure of what to do or say. It didn't hit her negatively, this information, but it certainly opened up her eyes.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" He urged, almost pleaded. "It doesn't make me any different. I'm still me and I still adore my girl. She's made me the happiest I have been in a long time. And we'll get home to our loves, yeah?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"And that's all that matters."

"I won't tell anyone."

Leaning down he kissed her temple and smiled broadly. "I know you won't, honeychild. You're so good to me."

"Would you have told anyone this if it wasn't for our situation now?" She asked.

"No."

"Not even Grace?"

He shook his head. "I love my girl, but she would crucify me."

"You think?"

"I know." He pulled away from her and exclaimed, "anyways, I have to get back before they miss me in my supply closet! You be careful today, yeah?"

"Always," she assured him.

"And don't worry, we'll get home."

"Of course." She returned as he wandered off.

Standing in the alcove for a moment, she felt a little dazed by what she just learned. It didn't change things, but it was certainly something. She almost appreciated the Lieutenant more for being so open about his sexuality. If he was that open with it, then it only meant he was a very open minded individual. Still, she wondered if it was hard for him. Harder than he let on.

Carol filed that away for things to mull over at another time, for now she was hell bent on finding that Major Devlin from the night before. He seemed like someone she'd like to talk to.

Wandering the halls of the main building, she searched for an office or something that held any indication of the man from the night before.

He was an officer, so she expected he would be in the main building somewhere behind a pile of – what? – paperwork, she supposed.

"Well, Corporal, when we get the technology to make pigs fly, I'm sure you'll be the first to get new gear," someone said as she stepped off on floor eight, heading down another long, labyrinthine hall of offices. "Until then, duct tape is a wonderous fix-all."

Stopping at the familiar tone of the soft spoken voice, Carol smiled at Colonel Kravitz as a rather miserable looking, scruffy young officer marched past her out of an office.

She pointed to a piece of paper with Colonel Kravitz scrawled on it and smiled. "Found your office."

"And hid his face amid a crowd of stars," the Colonel returned kindly, clasping his clipboard to his chest and returning the smile. "How are you fitting in, Mrs. Vancoughnett?"

"Like a square peg in a round hole." She returned. "That's…Yeats, isn't it?"

Colonel Kravitz merely continued to grin, the left corner of his mouth tugging up a little higher impishly. "What may I help you with, Mrs. Vancoughnett?"

"Can you tell me where Major Devlin's office is?" She asked bluntly.

"Major Devlin?" The man asked.

"Yes."

"He doesn't have an office, at least…he does but you won't find him there."

Carol waited for a moment, before prompting, "where can I find him?"

"So, you've met our Major Devlin, have you?" Colonel Kravitz asked politely, resting his hip against his desk.

"I have," she said cheerfully, hoping to mask her seditious side. "He suggested coming to meet with him about a problem with Lafayette's placement."

"Lieutenant Vancoughnett is unhappy?" Kravitz asked, smile dying.

"He's stuck in a supply closet."

"Of course, Brandt is…a little hard to get along with."

Carol smiled.

"It's almost noon," Kravitz said with another bright, crooked grin, "he'll probably be down in the basement playing dice with the kitchen staff."

"Thank you," Carol said. She meant it, Kravitz seemed a genuine and helpful man, despite her reservations over his loyalties.

"Are you unhappy here, Mrs. Vancoughnett?" He asked as she turned to leave.

Turning back, she found him sombre once more, large hazel eyes filled with concern over her.

"I miss my family." She admitted.

"I'm sorry."

She frowned and stepped in closer to him, "why can't you just let us go?"

Kravitz frowned too. "I'm sorry, we have security—"

"We won't tell anyone anything, just…we just want to go home."

The Colonel reached out with his free hand, before he stopped it halfway to her shoulder, dropping it back at his side.

"Go find Major Devlin, if he said he can help you, maybe he can," he suggested.

Carol nodded and turned to head for the door, pausing there as a thought struck her. "What kind of military man knows Yeats?" She inquired.

Kravitz smiled jovially. "I'm sure Major Devlin will know that," he said. "He seems to know a lot."

"What if," Carol began cautiously, closing the door to the outside world, leaving her alone with the Colonel. "What if I told you that I have a small infant girl waiting for me out there, who needs to feed from my breast? Who'll die without me there?"

Kravitz's dramatic eyebrows puckered and he asked, "is that true?"

"Yes."

She could see him fighting some internal battle, as he looked away from her at a spot on the wall by him.

"I'll take you to Major Devlin," he said softly. "I'm sorry," he added, "I have a little girl of my own and…I can't do much for you. My hands are tied."

Carol nodded.

"But the Major might be able to help you out."

"What does he do around here?" She asked as Kravitz opened the door for them.

"Good question," he replied. "When I figure it out, you'll be the first to know."


	32. Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

**DarylDixon'sLover -** Indeed!

**RandomMoonshadow -** What exactly came out of left field?

**Claire Randall Fraser -** I always look forward to your reviews most of all. They're the ones that fuel this writing machine. So thank you for them!

**itsi3 -** I actually enjoyed learning ASL in order to write that scene.

**This chapter is dedicated to Claire Randall Fraser, because you keep this story alive.**

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**Chapter Thirty-Two: Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy  
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****Carol****

"Major Devlin?"

Carol and Kravitz stared down a long, white, sterile hall where a group of men huddled around something on the floor.

At the sight of the officer in uniform the men scattered, leaving a single man to collect the dice and his winnings.

He stood up at their approach.

"Colonel," the man returned.

Kravitz frowned a little. "Where's Major Devlin?" He asked the man.

"If I had to chance a guess…he's sleeping in?" The Asian officer returned. His name tag read O'Brodovich which struck Carol immediately as curious.

"Where's his quarters?" She asked the men.

O'Brodovich smirked easily. "I wouldn't go there."

"Why's that?" Kravitz inquired.

"He's _sleeping_ in."

"We'll give him a friendly wake up call," Carol stated firmly.

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The three of them stood at the top of the stairs to the fourth floor of the building, staring down a dark, unoccupied corridor.

"I think I'd like to go on alone," she said to the two men.

The two exchanged a look, but politely remained where they were, leaving her to walk down the empty hall, heading for the soft, muffled music that played somewhere in the hall.

Carol followed the strains of The Andrews Sisters, until the music was clearer and coming from beyond an unmarked doorway.

Glancing down the hall to where the two men remained waiting for her patiently, she found O'Brodovich shifting uncomfortably on his feet, while Kravitz remained calm, holding his clipboard to his chest.

She knocked on the door gently.

When no one came to the door, she glanced down the hall once more and found only Kravitz standing there.

He shrugged when she frowned at the empty space and took a few worried steps down the hall towards her.

Carol knocked again a little louder.

_And the company jumps when he plays reveille,_

_He's the boogie-woogie bugle boy of Company B._

_They made him blow a bugle for his Uncle Sam,_

_It really brought him down because he couldn't jam._

The music still played, but no movements came from behind the door.

By now Kravitz had joined her, gingerly moving to stand at her side and stare at the door curiously.

"Major Devlin?" She called out, knocking again.

Glancing at Kravitz, she found him trying the knob, pushing the door open carefully, allowing the music to pour out from the room.

She allowed him to step in first, following closely, keeping her eyes darting and her hands ready to defend herself.

The room was virtually empty save for the recorder playing the music and a mannequin made from broomsticks and an officer's uniform.

Kravitz went straight towards the mannequin and plucked a note off the front, reading it before handing it over to Carol.

_Sorry I missed your call, leave a message after the beep._

She frowned at the message.

"Beep," someone chirped from behind them.

Carol jumped, ready to pounce, Kravitz pulled his gun halfway from his holster, before recognizing the form that had come up behind them.

A half-naked Devlin beamed roguishly and lit up a cigarette as the song on the recorder started over again.

"What brings you two flies into my parlour?" Devlin inquired, scooping up his note and reading it before tossing it aside in order to sit beside the recorder on the small desk-like table.

"What's with the ceremony, Major?" Kravitz inquired.

"What?" The man asked, leaning forward a little.

"The music? The mannequin?"

Taking a deep drag from his smoke, the man eyed Carol calmly, before leaning backwards on the desk.

"I don't have to explain my art to anyone, Kravitz," the man said, putting a heavy Polish accent on for the Colonel's name, blowing his smoke to the side politely. He smiled at Carol and winked. "You bring her up here for a little touch and tickle, Colonel? She's cute."

"Do you remember me?" Carol asked.

Devlin took another long drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowing at her. Blowing his smoke in the direction of the Colonel, he said, "show me your tits."

Carol's hands balled into fists of their own accord.

"Sorry, sweetheart, I remember tits better than faces."

"I would appreciate it if you were a little more polite to Mrs. Vancoughnett," Kravitz broke in calmly.

Shaking her head at the Colonel, Carol said, "I can handle him." Figuring it was just a flash of her tits, she lifted her shirt and fought the urge to blush as he took her in, still calmly smoking. This was all for her daughter. She could gut the little asshole later.

Kravitz suddenly found the window interesting as angled anyway a little from her.

Smoothing down her shirt, she gave him an expectant look.

"They're not ringing any bells for me. Nice though."

"They're usually smaller," she said firmly. "I haven't expressed my milk yet today."

"Gross," the Major returned.

"Because I have a baby girl waiting for me back home," Carol finished.

The music from the recorder took over the silence as everyone fell quiet.

_He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way,_

_He had a boogie style that no one else could play._

_He was the top man in his craft,_

_But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft._

Finally Devlin cleared his throat. "So what do you want from me?"

"Can you get me and my husband out of here?"

Devlin's eyes flashed to Kravitz at her side.

"Colonel," the Major said with a small grin. "Don't you have things to be doing?"

"I could ask the same of you," Kravitz returned. "However, we all know you don't do much of anything around here. Why is that?"

"Just lucky I guess," Devlin stated sliding down from the desk. "Now, I have things to do and unless one of you is going to pop my top, then I'm going to have to ask both of you to get the hell out of my office."

Carol was tempted to shove him down and demand help or answers or something, but he was military trained and even she wasn't that stupid.

Still, it tore her inside to watch another hope for escape pass her by as Devlin approached Kravitz to usher them both to the door.

Exchanging a panicked look with the Colonel, Carol struggled to think of something. If this man could get her and the Lieutenant out and back home safely, if they could do this without risk or…having to seduce someone, then she needed this chance.

With a small twitch of his mouth, Kravitz suddenly turned and grasped the Major by his upper arm, whispering in his soft tone. "Major? Please? Can't we do anything for her?"

Major Devlin looked the shorter Colonel up and down for a moment, before a smug grin took over his features. "Is that an order, Colonel?"

"It's a polite request," Kravitz said.

Shrugging off the hand on his arm, Devlin laughed jovially. "Hahaha! I don't think so, sorry. I have no idea how you got it into your heads that I could help anyone. I'm just a soldier."

"Please?" Carol asked. "I have a baby waiting for me. She needs feeding soon."

"Lady," Devlin said. "I can't help you."

Instantly her mind began to go through her other options, distracting her from what happened next, all she knew was that Kravitz's clipboard clattered to the floor and suddenly Devlin was on the floor right beside it, flat on his face, winded, Kravitz restraining him, kneeling on his mid-back, holding his arms up straight behind him.

"I'd appreciate it if you could help Mrs. Vancoughnett and her husband out," Kravitz murmured coolly in a tone that lost all of its soft warmth. "Or do I have to pull rank on you, Major?"

"While you're back there, I have an itch just above my ass," Devlin replied.

Holding Devlin's arms, Kravitz used his foot to push the man's face hard against the floor.

"Little lower," the man mumbled into the floor. "You're not even close."

"I don't want any trouble," Carol said, suddenly very tired. "I just want to go home."

Both men looked over at her.

She sighed. "I just…I'm tired of fighting. I just want to go home." Her voice broke, but she refused to cry. That was the last thing she needed, was to start weeping over her little girl and Daryl and the home she lost in front of these strange and potentially dangerous men.

Releasing Devlin, Kravitz stepped away and cleared his throat.

Lying on the floor in a Playgirl centrefold style, Devlin smiled up at them both.

Retrieving his clipboard, Kravitz moved towards Carol and said gently, "we'll figure something out, Mrs. Vancoughnett."

She nodded and followed him out, giving Devlin one last, disappointed look.

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Stopping outside the closet she shared with the Lieutenant, she turned to Colonel Kravitz and smiled. It was forced, dry.

"Thank you for trying to help me," she said.

He looked her in the eye and touched a hand to her shoulder politely. "I meant what I said. I'll help you best I can."

"Be careful though," she whispered. "I don't want to get you in trouble."

He smiled secretively and leaned in. "I basically run the place," he stated. "They would be stupid to get rid of me." Giving her one last pat on the shoulder, he turned and walked off, leaving Carol to open the door to her closet and step inside defeated.

"You have some balls, lady," someone spoke as she tugged her overhead light on.

Jumping, she spun mid-air and reached for the knife she no longer carried.

Sitting on the bottom bunk, resting against the wall calmly, Major Devlin glowered at her darkly.

"How'd you get here?"

"My mom and lot of liquor if she's to be believed," the man replied easily.

Closing her door, Carol kept her eyes on the man the whole time.

He remained on the bunk looking like he had no intentions of moving.

"I ran really fast," he finally admitted with a grin. "Okay, so…you have business with me?"

"What's going on here?" She asked first off. "Last night you said some very—"

"I know what I said," he growled. "You think this is a fucking movie where a man gets so blitzed he forgets everything? But you're curious about it?"

"I just want to go home, I could care less about…whatever it is going on here."

"Not even a little curious?" He inquired.

"No."

"I really can't get you out, I'm not magic."

"But you wouldn't be here unless you didn't have something for me," she argued.

He smirked. "You're a sharp one. Sexy and smart, I'm in love."

"How fast can I reject that idea without ruining my chances of getting your help?" She asked.

He chuckled. "Look. If you can finagle a meeting with the very top dog, then you'll probably be in a position to go home."

"I tried to see him," she said.

"Haven't we all?" He returned, rising to his feet.

Carol hesitated. "Is it really him? The President?"

Devlin's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Maybe? Maybe not? Meet with him face to face and see."

"Can't you just—"

"No," he cut her off. "The President! Meet him! Find him! Reason with him in person! Touch him if you want!" He barked as he stepped to the door.

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She was in their closet room later that evening, avoiding everyone, just anxiously pacing up and down her small cell which only took a step or two, when the Lieutenant came 'home'.

"There's my little woman," he teased. Seeing her face, his joking smile dropped and he grew grim. "Are you alright?"

"I had a strange day," she said.

"How strange?"

"I couldn't even begin to describe it…"

Taking him by the wrists, she sat them down on the lower bunk and began her tale, not leaving out a single, small detail. When she finished, she waited to hear his opinion, knowing that for all his goofball ways, he would think this over and give sound advice.

What he said instead was, "how much do you trust Kravitz?"

She blinked. "I…don't…I think I trust him," she said after a small moment of reflection.

The Lieutenant nodded. "And this Devlin?"

"I don't know."

"Okay, we need to bring Kravitz in on this."

"What?"

"Look, you said you trust him, yeah? I might have the brain of a tubeworm, but I know that it's better to have a force of trusted men at your back then one tired old Cajun." He patted her knee and stood up. "I think we should pay Colonel Kravitz a visit to thank him for helping my beloved wife today."

She nodded. "Okay." Her feet remained planted in the spot where she rose and she asked, "are you sure?"

He paused by the door and pocketed his hands. "If you feel like I'm wrong, say something, _ange_. I'm not always right."

Carol thought over her day and all the previous exchanges she had with the Colonel, before nodding. "No, I trust him."

Holding out his hand, the Lieutenant smiled easily. "So? We going?"

She took his hand and nodded. "We go."

Opening the door to their little closet hole, she almost walked right into the chest of Major Devlin.

"Ma—" she began, but halted at the sight of a swarm of uniforms flanking him.

"Mrs. Vancoughnett, is it?" He inquired with a smug grin. "Do you think we could have a word with you and your husband?" His eyes twinkled. "Strictly informal."

"You can have a word with me," the Lieutenant said sternly. "But no one talks to my wife without our lawyer present."

Major Devlin smiled broadly. "That's cute. I can see I'm going to like you. Come along upstairs."

When they remained frozen in their doorway, he motioned with an open hand invitingly. "Come along, please?"

The Lieutenant slid his hand into hers and they started off with the group of uniforms, heading for the stairs.


	33. It's A Mean Old World

**stargazr41 -** I think you effectively brought the word 'wackadoodle' back for me. Thanks! ^_^

**RandomMoonshadow -** Whack-a-doo. That is all. XD

**Claire Randall Fraser -** You always seem to catch the nuances I often hope get relayed in my characters. So thank you so much!

**itsi3 -** Oh woman too!

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**Chapter Thirty-Three: It's A Mean Old World**

****Glenn****

Skulking around the convent grounds, Glenn noticed there was a lack of something.

It was almost like all the hope and joy, things only the convent had provided them, had been sucked out and replaced by that dark unknowing fear that plagued them during those terrifying days of the quarry and Hershel's farm.

In the dormitory kitchen, a crowd had gathered around St. James, who had fallen asleep on his knees as he dug through their supplies in his desperate search for milk replacement formula for the babies, his face pressed against the counter.

He was literally dead on his feet from his relentless watch over Grace, over Scout and over little Five.

"Do we wake him?" Sister Mary Agnes asked.

Merle scowled down at the form.

"Let him sleep," Michonne said.

Mrs. Douglas moved forward from the hall with a blanket and very carefully covered St. James with it.

"What do we do?" Glenn asked her as she stepped back from the man.

"What do you mean?" She asked him.

"About everything? I mean…?" He felt like someone should do something.

St. James snorted awake then and almost collapsed sideways in his hurry to get back to his task, unaware of the crowd that had gathered as he dug almost desperately for formula.

"That's it!" Glenn growled.

He couldn't just stand by anymore.

Storming from the kitchen into the cool Georgian winter air, he headed for Carl who sat on the wall with Layla, the two chatting amiably in the growing evening.

"Carl!" He shouted up.

The young man stood up. "What's up?"

"Get a group together, pick whoever you think would be best. You're going into Atlanta."

Carl hopped down. "For what?"

"Formula…I don't know…a woman who can feed the babies, better anti-biotics," Glenn said. "Anything, something."

Carl frowned. "Okay."

Glenn glanced over at Layla and found her eyeing him with fearful, beautiful brown eyes.

Turning, he headed for the gate, finding Rick rounding the corner of the dorms as he did so, the taller man heading right for him.

"Rick," Glenn greeted.

"O'Hara and Rhoades are at the gate," Rick stated.

Nodding, Glenn said, "we need to do something about Grace and the babies."

The other man nodded. "I know."

"I told Carl to gather a group for a trip into Atlanta," Glenn went on as they both headed towards Rhoades and O'Hara who were pulling to a stop in front of the church. "I want to take some people out too. We'll find something. We have to."

Hopping out of the truck, Rhoades approached them, followed by O'Hara.

"We hear you've got some trouble," Rhoades said.

"Things are bad," Glenn returned.

"How bad?" O'Hara asked.

"Grace…isn't good. The babies are getting weak from hunger, but she can't feed them with an infection." Rick declared.

Blinking, O'Hara dropped his seemingly all seeing eyes, before he took to one knee before them, his pack falling to the ground.

Glenn and Rick watched as he opened it and pulled out two cans of formula.

Nearly collapsing in his excitement, Glenn took the cans.

"Rhoades and I stopped on our way and scrounged up some useful things for your people here," the man said.

"This won't last forever," Rhoades said. "But maybe it'll get you through?"

Grasping O'Hara by the upper arm, forgetting the man didn't like to be touched, Glenn grinned broadly. "Let's get these to St. James!"

Major O'Hara politely pulled his arm back and nodded Rhoades in the direction of the dorms to accompany Glenn, remaining behind with Rick.

Tearing into the building, Glenn searched every room for St. James, before he was pointed towards the cellar by Mary Agnes.

Practically fumbling down the stairs, Glenn slammed hard into the weary man, knocking him into a shelf hard.

"Formula!" Glenn exclaimed.

St. James took the cans and eyed them quickly, scanning them.

"Will it work?" Glenn asked.

"It's expired, but…better than what we had before," the man replied over his shoulder, already tripping up the stairs.

Remaining behind in the cellar with Rhoades for a moment, Glenn was approached by the tall man.

"So Grace…is she…going to make it?"

Glenn shrugged. "I don't know, she went downhill fast."

"What do you need to treat her?"

"Milton's already made us some anti-biotics last month in his little drug shack," Glenn said. "But we'll ask St. James what she'll need. In the meantime, I think I'm going to head out after Carol and the Lieutenant. Or supplies even. I have to do something."

Rhoades shifted on his big boots, bending at the waist to eye the shorter man.

"I don't have any real plans," he said.

"Will O'Hara let you come?" Glenn asked as they headed up the stairs.

"He'd better, because I'm going."

Upstairs in the kitchen, they found only Andrea cleaning her rifle and Blue drinking a cup of strong tea.

"Hey," she greeted.

"You wanna go on an adventure?" Glenn asked her.

She smirked. "Wow, with swords and goblins and everything?"

"Haha," he sighed.

Smiling a little proudly at her joke, she jerked her chin at Rhoades. "What's up, big guy?"

"My blood pressure, probably," he returned.

"I read The Hobbit twice to Princess," Blue remarked, holding up his hand. "I know adventuring like I know my own mother."

Glenn nodded. "Alright, two more."

Milton entered the kitchen from the backdoor, looking distracted. His normally well kempt blond hair disheveled, his glasses thrust up into the locks as though done in frustration.

He moved straight from the pot of tea that somehow always magically appeared, hot and full by the stove.

"Rough day, Milt?" Andrea asked.

"Ants under the mercy of the cordyceps fungus have a rough day, we as a human race have had a rough existence," he murmured pouring himself a cup of tea. "It all started with the burning of the Library of Alexandria and from there life just slipped downwards at an angle of one-ten." Flopping onto a chair at the table, the man sighed. It was the sigh of the living dead.

"Milton, why don't you come with me when we head out?" Glenn asked. "You could find what you need for making more medications."

"I could also go into business doing strip teases for the ladies of the convent," Milton grumbled.

"Was that sarcasm, Milt?" Andrea demanded with a twinkle in her eye.

"I'm tired," he explained easily. "And I'm not as smart as you all like to think!"

Everyone at the table held up their hands in surrender.

"It's just…I taught tenth grade social studies, not…" he sighed again and gulped down his tea like it was rotgut whiskey.

"What's up, little man?" Rhoades asked.

Milton scowled. "I burned my mouth," he muttered, going for another cup of tea. "People die," he said suddenly. "I get that. This is the world we're in now, but…I should have foreseen this happening."

"What?"

"The babies," Milton said softly. "I should have taken them into account. I could have been making a plan for this."

"Milton, you can't have a contingency plan for everything," Glenn pointed out.

"I can!" He declared loudly. "I should!" He calmed and set his mug aside. "Babies shouldn't starve. Not here."

"They won't starve," Glenn said, despite the fact that he and everyone there knew that it was a grim possibility unless they found Carol or more formula.

"You don't know that!" Milton shouted. "We don't know anything! We…we're stupid children clinging to a ball five billion years old, spinning around a flaming star that will inevitably die someday and…we know nothing."

In the silence that followed this outburst, no one moved. Everyone remained as they were, Blue in mid sip, Rhoades tilted to one side as he shifted his weight.

"Well," Rhoades said after a moment. "Shit." Elbowing Glenn hard enough to cause the smaller man to stagger forward a little, he joked, "guess my eighth grade English teacher was right."

It was Blue who stroked his stubbled chin and asked in the wizened tone of some revered elder from the dusty dry lowlands of Texas, "what's really eating your ass, sprout?"

"Starving babies aren't enough?" Milton demanded.

"I recall Lafayette told me a story once about a clam in the ocean," Blue began.

Glenn nodded. It sounded like something the Lieutenant would do.

"This clam minded its own line, kept to itself, made no sound or wave, just laid there in the ocean bed. And it was a clam, I guess, didn't do anything, not even sure if the damned things can feel emotions, but time got it. Killed this clam. Dead. Boom. And it never made a wave, just died in the ocean bed and eventually it rotted out and the empty shell floated off on the currents of the ocean."

Everyone waited for the moral of the story.

Blue frowned a little. "I realize now that Lafayette is better at this than me."

Rhoades cleared his throat. "The goddamn clam realized when it got to clam heaven that he wasted his life never doing anything. Like…I dunno, getting clam pussy or something." He looked off to the side and murmured, "he _is_ better at this."

"But clams don't do anything," Milton argued. "That's basically their existence."

Andrea sighed. "Milton, they're telling the damned story wrong. The whole point is supposed to be that we're not clams. We need to do things and that's probably why we're on this earth, to experience it. We may be stupid children, but it's up to us to educate ourselves to the best of our abilities and to learn from our mistakes."

"None of this has been helpful," Milton said. "Thank you for trying."

Everyone watched Milton as he left the kitchen by way of the back door.

Glenn wasn't sure what to do about that. His main concern was just babies and Grace.

"Clams don't have assholes, do they?" Rhoades inquired.

Merle burst into the kitchen followed by Tyreese, Adele and O'Hara.

"If this convent were a clam, you'd be our asshole," Merle growled with a small grin.

Rhoades beamed. "Merle, you old nutsack! How you've been hanging?"

"Low and lopsided," Merle retorted.

"Oh good, this means I can talk about my vagina now," Andrea stated with a roll of her eyes.

"I wish you would, darling," Merle invited.

Rhoades swept his arms out. "You have an open floor and a ready audience."

Andrea shook her head. "You think I won't?"

"I hope you do!" Merle returned.

"Andrea, you pink taco, how've you been?!" Adele inquired suddenly.

Not expecting that, Glenn snorted as Andrea clapped her hands to her mouth, blue eyes widening with mirth and disbelief.

Merle and Rhoades gave the woman dual perturbed looks.

"It's uncomfortable, isn't it?" Andrea demanded of the two men.

As Merle and Rhoades left the room to escape it all, O'Hara sniffed and turned to Adele calmly.

"You are most certainly your brother's kin," he said.

Adele gave a small, adorable curtsey before going over to pour herself some tea.

Turning back to the others, O'Hara said. "You should gather everyone up, we need to make some plans."

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****Cash****

He sat like a pointer hound, upper torso forward, almost ready to pounce, the rest of him all tense, ropy muscles and sharp, flashing blue eyes.

The longer Delgado prolonged their presence at his farm, the more Daryl Dixon became less like a human being and more animalistic.

It actually scared Cash a little.

Finally, after a meal was offered, the smaller, fiercer man blew up and stood up so fast and hard, his chair flew backwards and clattered against the wall.

"What are we doing here?" He demanded.

Everyone seated at the table, looked up at him startled.

It surprised Cash that they hadn't seen the man slowly building up pressure like one of them Nuclear Power Plants before the meltdown. But then again, living with Daryl for the good part of a year, Cash was beginning to read the man better.

"You invited us in, we only came to ask if you've seen Carol!" Daryl shouted, pointing his finger at Delgado accusingly. "Come inside, here for five goddamn hours being fed and watered like fucking housecats!"

Delgado blinked at the man.

Knocking a nearby vase off a credenza, Daryl snarled. "Man, fuck you and fuck this!"

Watching the man storm out, Cash pondered going with him or waiting around for a hot meal.

In the end the hot meal option won out and he sat in Daryl's vacant seat.

"Hot-tempered little shit, ain't he?" The ginger fellow remarked.

"He once punched a bag of cotton swabs because he couldn't open it," Cash lied with a grin as the food arrived at the table.

"Hey," the dark haired women who travelled with Mullet-head and the Ginger Zinger said, jerking her chin at Cash. "That boy's woman…she really lost or did she run off with his best friend?"

Taking a big slab of steak, Cash plopped it onto his plate and cut off a piece to shove into his facehole, chewing for a moment, before saying with a full mouth, "you don' know the Lieutenan' or Caro'." He swallowed the piece of meaty heaven and explained. "They wouldn't do that." He motioned to the door with his fork. "He'll find them. Dead or alive or…deadish?"

Everyone eyed him quietly, before the Ginger made a jerking off gesture and dug into his own meal.

Cash returned the rude gesture by mimicking the man's trucker 'stache with his finger and thumb.

After dinner he stepped out into the growing dark to find Daryl steaming mad on the front porch.

"Well," Cash remarked with a sniff at the cold Georgian winter night air. "This is progress."

Daryl ignored him, scowling at the dark.

Easing onto a rocking chair beside him, Cash pat his full stomach and sighed. "I mean, I was expecting you to be long gone."

"No sense traveling in the dark," Daryl growled. "And shut up!"

"You say that," Cash replied. "But you don't really mean it."

As the man ignored him, the blond took a good long look at Daryl, before pushing a little more.

"What's holding you here? Ass tethered to the porch?"

"I'm going to punch you in your dick if you keep talking!" Daryl snarled.

The tone wasn't as menacing as it once would have been, which actually kind of worried Cash.

Not that he cared. He didn't care at all.

And then a thought hit him.

Daryl didn't storm off into the night, because he didn't have the first goddamn idea of where to begin looking for Carol.

The world was a huge place and fragmented due to the collapse of society.

But Daryl, being Daryl, couldn't just sit still and let life happen around him. The man had it in his DNA to be the one bouncing around and stalking the darkness while shit happened. He reacted.

And suddenly, Cash did care. The idea that this pathetic backwater redneck lost two people he really cared for over something as stupid as a random walker herd—

Cash jumped to his feet.

Where did those walkers come from? Out of nowhere? After months of nothing…

Standing at the railing of the porch, he squinted at the night, feeling like something was happening in his brain.

He was either getting close to an idea or he was gassy.

A herd of fresh walkers from out of nowhere…

Cash opened his mouth and belched loudly.

But no, that was just coincidental gas, this…this was something!

"Hey," he turned to Daryl. "We burnt all those walkers, didn't we?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"No!" Cash exclaimed. "Milton kept one to examine!"

"So?"

"They were fresh walkers, like…recent kills, right?"

Daryl pushed to his feet.

"What if…I mean, if Carol and the Lieutenant are still alive and…maybe captured? What if these walkers had something to do with who has them?"

"Like another group?"

"Maybe, or…I dunno," Cash grunted. "Never mind." He slumped back down.

But Daryl remained standing, brow furrowed under the mop of his greasy hair. He leapt over the porch railing and slipped off into the night so fast, Cash barely had time to slog his steak heavy ass after him.


	34. Highwayman

**Claire Randall Fraser -** Don't be nervous. Just because this is my final story in this series, doesn't mean I'm going to kill off too many people.

**DarylDixon'sLover -** I agree. I hope Carol escapes and gets home in time.

**You'reMyKindOfTrouble -** You're not terrible at all! I'm just glad you're still enjoying the story!

**Guest -** Cash kind of sways back and forth with me, between being a loveable idiot to being an annoying ass.

**itsi3 -** This will be nine days. But it's been two days since Grace has been unable to feed the babies, and one day since they ran out of formula for them. If that's what you were asking. Thanks for the review!

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**Chapter Thirty-Four: Highwayman  
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****The Lieutenant****

"I'm a Marine, trained recon, rifleman. I was born, Lake Charles, Louisiana, February ninth nineteen-seventy to a woman who, at that time worked at a small roadside diner called 'The Blackened Catfish'. My father was a known scoundrel in the area, troublemaker mostly, at the time he was a flyshit thief and liar, fought men in the bars all across Southern Louisiana.

One night, my mama was closing up the diner, it was summertime. Hot down on the bayou, the stars must have been out because I've always been lucky. Old Voodoo Queen who lived down the road from me used to say a baby conceived on a starry night will be lucky.

From what I understand, from the stories told me by my _Mamere_, what little I could eke out of her, my mama drove an old beat up Ford Galaxie. Sixty-two, I believe the year of the model was, faded blue so that it looked like a powdered baby blue car.

My mama, she climbed into her car, she was a friendly thing back then, rape wasn't really on the rise, not like it is now where women have to take every precaution against the hungry wolves that roam these lands, no. Mama got into her car, and rolled down the window for a handsome, tall man who was approaching her.

I can't ever know what was said, whether he asked her for a ride or whether he asked for a light, but that parking lot of The Blackened Catfish is where he hopped into her Ford and somehow they drove off into the starry Louisiana night.

No one ever said anything more about what happened, other than my _Mamere_ once saying 'he done ripped her soul out'.

Since that moment, when my _defan Mamere_ murmured those words, I knew I was the son of the beast, the terror that stalked the night. I was something wrenched from hell itself and my sole task in life was to serve as a torturous reminder to my sweet, gentle mother.

My mama was no classic movie starlet, she wasn't devastatingly gorgeous, but she was pretty. Prettiest woman I have ever seen. Like a small bird or a mouse, even.

And they caged her when I turned four.

They locked her away for her health, because three days after my fourth birthday, my _Mamere_ said I had walked into her bedroom and found my mother choking on her own vomit…she had taken something, pills or some such.

After that I only ever saw her at Christmas and on her birthday.

I don't think she ever really wanted to see me, though. She never said so, mama's no matter how bad they are, never really want to tell their babies that they can't bear to look at them.

I never blamed her. Imagine the worst day of your entire life and having to go around with a constant reminder of it, holding your hand and trying to hug you about the middle.

My grandparents decided, after mama was holed away, to move up the bayou. Basile, they had said, was where your Great-Aunt Ethel lived.

Old Ethel was a mean old cur. Used to poke me in the back with her cane in order to boss me around. I remember her faded floral dresses and the flabby bits under her arms, how low they hung. Always thought if she tried hard enough, she could get some air under those bits and go wind sailing.

She died when I turned eight.

It was strange, never liked the woman, but I missed her when she was gone. I think it was because she treated me like she treated everyone else.

People sort of handled me delicately as a boy. I guess it was because they knew I wasn't born of anything pure and good.

My _Papere_, _defan vieux_, he passed when I was fourteen.

_Papere_ was a quiet man, patient and gentle. He had these big hands that were always rough from hard work, used to always be tinkering at something. I used to curl up in his lap in the evenings when I was a wee boy and he'd hold me and sing softly with the radio. Used to listen to the old Spirituals and gospel songs, the bare roots of our warm and pained southern music. He used to sing things like:

_There's a land that is fairer than day_

_And by faith we can see it afar_

_For the Father waits over the way_

_To prepare us a dwelling place there_

The _vieux_ used to always somehow calm me. He had an aura of tranquillity. I always thought that if Jesus were real, if all that stories from the bible nonsense was true, then he'd be like my _Papere_. Calming.

Anyways, I turned fourteen and two months later that dear old man, he died. His heart gave out, they said. He was just gone.

And then it was me and my _Mamere_ and we got on well. She used to collect honey and sell it to make money, and when I got old enough I got me a job in Basile at the hardware store.

So, I turn nineteen, in the winter of eighty-nine, and I was New Orleans, working at a bar called the Rusty Tap and I meet this cute little barmaid named Elise. Prettiest little thing, so delicate and small I feel like I could have just put her in my pocket. Dimples when she smiled, skin the colour of…well, you know that song 'Lady Marmalade'? Skin the colour of café au lait. That was her. My Elise.

I wasn't happy with bartending. Just tossing drunks out on their ears, so I joined up with the Marine Corps Reserves firstly, the ones based out of New Orleans. I did my training and then at the end of it all, they asked me if I wanted to join up full force.

That was the summer, ninety-one, that my Mamere died and Elise and I moved to Columbus, Georgia, I took up station at Fort Benning. Served the Corps five solid years, never got around to marrying my Elise. She…she was very quiet and patient with me, but I never got over the fact that my father was a monster and I was – in fact – the product of hell.

She killed herself, fall of ninety-five.

Took an electrical cord into the bathroom and…strung herself up from the door.

See? A product of hate and violence can never be anything good for anyone. I should have known that, I should never have forgotten that. If, maybe I finally got around to marrying Elise, maybe she wouldn't have been so lost.

Ninety-eight I was a Drill Instructor, specializing on the firing range, training the new recruits to use their rifles properly. I threw myself into my work, didn't look up, didn't take a break, didn't do anything but work and sleep and eat.

And then our country is attacked, brutally and lives are scattered on the winds, and change comes to our front door and I request to be sent over. I rather preferred it. Maybe I wanted to die, or…some part of me wanted nothing more than to just destroy this evil heart of mine. This monster that I am.

I served four tours, and then one day we were all being pulled out. Rapidly.

The plane ride over, no one knew why we were pulling out, but we knew that something was happening back home. And we get off the plane, get shuttled to Fort Benning and…I've seen a lot of horror films in my life. You see enough blue painted extras drooling and shuffling in a mall to think it's impossible. You tell yourself it's impossible.

But then you get your pack stuffed full of ammo and shoved out into the wide world and told to take down anyone who looks dead and…you follow orders, because you're still a Marine then.

Men die, HQ is full of them, suddenly everywhere you look it's the dead and there's nothing coming from anyone over the radio and all at once I found myself alone. Walking among them, picking them off when I could.

What is it? Twenty-fourteen? Twenty-fifteen? Shit I don't know.

But here I am. In the asshole of the country, talking to a smug pipsqueak, who, frankly is beginning to wear on my nerves."

The man across the table from him eased back in his chair with a smile. "Lieutenant, if they gave out Nobel Peace Prize's for being skilled raconteurs, you'd most certainly win. And you didn't even answer my question."

The Lieutenant adjusted his position at the table. "I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?"

"Is he always this grating, Carol?" Major Devlin addressed the woman beside him easily.

She remained quiet, still. Eyes glaring hard at the man across the table, almost challenging him.

Noticing this resistance, the Lieutenant continued to play his part. Bumbling idiot.

"You know the land we're sitting on right now used to be Seminole land," he began.

"Stop, just please God stop," Devlin rubbed at his eyes wearily. "Look, just stop."

"You know the Seminole tell a story about how man was created. You see, a long, long time ago, in a valley bordering on a river, God scattered seeds about him. After some time, human fingers began springing from the soil, and, following the fingers, came the bodies. Soon, the people emerged from the ground and began walking about. When they went to the river to bathe off the dirt, some of them remained in the water too long-"

"I asked if you wanted to meet with the President before we go any further," the Major broke in.

"Why are we here?" Carol suddenly demanded.

"You've been asking too many questions, I told you."

"What questions have I been asking?" She inquired.

"All of the wrong ones and none of the right ones."

Carol fell silent, going back to quietly staring the man down.

Licking his bottom lip, Fate stepped in again.

"Think you lost her again," he pointed out.

Devlin frowned. "That's too bad. I really thought I gotten through to her."

"Did you now?"

Sighing a little, Devlin sat back in his chair, throwing his elbow over the back of it and angling his head to the soldiers standing guard behind him. "Why don't you two go and search their room?"

After a moment of the soldiers leaving, in the silence of the door closing behind them and locking, no one said anything, Devlin just sat with his elbow hooked over the back of his chair, an expectant look on his face.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his unhooked hand and murmured, "you're giving me a headache, Carol."

"You're an ass, Devlin!" She snapped back.

Having never heard anything so sharp from the woman, Fate had to sit back in his seat and just appreciate her tone.

The man smiled. "Okay, let me spell this out for the both of you. A-S-K T-O S-P-E-A-K the president!"

Carol and the Lieutenant exchanged a small glance.

"What now?" He asked for her.

"Oh God, I forgot we're in the South," Devlin sighed. "Y'all can't read them book thangs, huh?" He mocked.

Before those final pillars of the Southern society could respond to this insult, the Major went on.

"When those men come back, you ask very pointedly to speak to the president!"

Everyone was quiet, processing his orders, before Carol spoke carefully. "Why?"

"Oh, come on! We're not idiots here, we may be mostly boys and girls who have more muscle than brains, but we're not idiots. There's a supposed president, our president giving us orders, but never letting us meet him? Your boy Kravitz? He's there in that office every morning and every evening trying to get in to see the president. The Major-General, knocked the secretary on her ass trying to get in, they needed four men just to restrain him from marching past that little harpy in pink. We're all thinking it, no one wants to say it. You two need to be the ones to draw attention to this flaw in our small, private society."

"You don't think there's a president?" Carol asked.

"I don't know who's at the top giving us orders, but I don't think it's the President of the United States of goddamned America. I mean, come on, Florida?"

As the Lieutenant and Carol processed this information, Devlin added, leaning in over the table towards them conspiratorially. "Look, there is only one pillar holding us up right now. That's the fact that we're serving our president and in essence our country. You two want to go home? That's fine, I don't care, but you aren't walking out the gate. The only thing to do is knock that pillar down, collapse it all and escape in the anarchy that ensues."

"How can we trust you?" Carol asked.

"You can't, in fact I'd highly recommend against it normally. I'm using you both to get this shit in the open, but we can live a symbiotic relationship here. You feed my needs and I fuel yours."

Again silence towered over the three at the table, before Carol spoke.

"You said something about 'bodies' to me that night at the bar tent…?"

Devlin nodded. "Orders came down, a week after I arrived. We had just caught this group of men, criminals mostly, interested in death and destruction, loving the violence. So we went in as a force, captured them, took them into custody. The prez sends word, straight from the mouth of his sweet little secretary. We execute those men, make them an example, but we don't burn the dead. We take them out, to the countryside somewhere far away from Florida and we bury them in a pit, moving around or not. So we load them into a dump truck, some of them already getting up and shuffling about, and we drive them into Georgia, dig a pit and drop them in."

"Why?"

"I don't think," Devlin began, pausing after a moment. "I don't think whoever's giving the orders, wants anyone to survive out there. The more groups who die, who drop off, the more resources available to us. The Major-General, as punishment for knocking about the secretary, got put on the duty of tracking down other groups, apprehending them or just wiping them out. It's easier for us, I think, to just let loose the dead."

"So, you're all just running on blind faith that you're serving a president," Carol said.

Devlin sat back with his eyebrows raised. "You serve in any of the Armed Forces, Carol, you tend to just follow orders. As long as whoever is giving them is legit, you do it. Without question."

"But you're questioning it," she pointed out.

"Job I do," Devlin said, "I question everything."

"You're Military Intelligence," the Lieutenant drawled.

"I'm a fact finder, that's all," Devlin replied. "I deal in information and hard evidence."

"Military Intelligence," the Lieutenant muttered to Carol.

She was too deep in thought to hear him. "If we do this, what guarantees can you offer us?"

"Nothing," Devlin returned. "I can't give you anything, Carol. Only information. But you're a hard ass, you'll survive."

"So? We're all clear then? You know what to do now?" Devlin demanded.

Carol nodded once, before leaning towards him, finger pointing at his face. "We'll play along, but if you screw us over, I will find you and I will tear that lying tongue of yours right out of your lying hole."

Devlin blinked at her approaching finger. "Keep talking dirty, Carol, you're getting me all rigid," he said calmly.


	35. This Land Is Nobody's Land

**Claire Randall Fraser -** Well, thank you, m'dear! I'm trying a little bit of a new writing style.

**itsi3 -** Always a game plan. ^_^

**ArcheryLefty -** Thank you! Such a kind review! Nice to hear from you again!

**RandomMoonshadow -** And I've been waiting to hear from you again. ;)

**Guest -** I'm looking forward to Daryl's storyline. It should be coming soon.

**Guest(2) -** I wouldn't trust Devlin either.

**stargazr41 -** Carol is amazing when she's fired up.

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**Chapter Thirty-Five: This Land Is Nobody's Land  
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****Kravitz****

The last five years before it all went horribly wrong, were the hardest for him.

He took his papers and left the armed forces and learned that he missed the routine of the army. It turned out too, that he wasn't cut out for teaching, not like he thought he'd be. English was his passion, but he struggled with students who just didn't care. They were high school brats who didn't want to learn about Poe or Yeats.

Five months after leaving the army, she was home alone when an armed assailant invaded and killed her for a handful of her gold jewellery and forty-three dollars.

And then the dead wouldn't stay dead.

Of course, oddly enough, at that moment in time, the dead walking around were the least of his problems. In all actuality, they distracted him from his abject misery.

Now it was routine again. Get up, get washed, a little morning exercise, then do his rounds. He worked from the outside in. The wall and gate, the little tented city, supplies, personnel, the main building, mess hall, supplies again, then up to the General's office, hoping that it was the day the President would allow an audience.

Get up.

The voice commanding him to move about his daily life was always Joan's. His wife was still guiding him through the worst of it.

Get up, she'd order. And much like any previous morning's, he would open his eyes and groggily sit up.

Already he could hear his mother dressing Dinah, his father would no doubt be sitting on his rickety chair just outside the tent, book in hand, thick coke bottle glasses perched on the end of his rather pointed nose. His parents wouldn't have gone to the mess tent for breakfast yet, not without him.

Since everything, he noticed they had clung rather close to him. He knew it was out of confusion and fear, both weren't very spry or young, it was just dumb luck that he had happened upon the men sent out by the President who were recruiting military personnel.

They had accepted him, he was after all former military, but they placed him properly, he felt. He was too old to go out and hunt those infected down like the Major-General, but too smart to be a simple grunt.

Glancing up as he rubbed a hand over his morning stubble, he found his daughter peering at him sombrely from the tent flap and offered her a small, encouraging grin.

She beamed back at him and flung herself onto his cot and into his lap.

"Morning," she greeted.

"Good morning," he returned. "What's that smell?"

"Peppermint," Dinah replied, leaning in and blowing in his face. "See?"

As his daughter smacked her lips, he playfully tickled her ribs, sending her into a squealing fit.

"I take it the fresh breath means you brushed already?" He asked.

"Yes, sir!" His daughter jumped down from the cot and her father's arms to stand and rigidly salute him.

He returned it.

Going over to her little pack where his daughter kept all her things, Dinah picked up her brush and a pretty little ribbon. She came over almost shyly and held them up to him.

He smiled and patted his lap.

Settling in it, his daughter sat still while he brushed and braided her hair after five years he still wasn't the quickest or best hairstylist for his little girl, but he still tried because Dinah seemed to enjoy the time spent with him.

"Will you say it?" Dinah asked him after a bit.

Smiling, he spat the ribbon out from between his lips onto the cot at their side and began softly:

"_Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,  
The linner and thrush say, 'I love and I love!'  
In the winter they're silent - the wind is so strong;  
What it says, I don't know, but it sings a loud song.  
But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,  
And singing, and loving - all come back together.  
But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,  
The green fields below him, the blue sky above,  
That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he-  
'I love my Love, and my Love loves me!'"_

As he finished Dinah's hair, he gave the braid a gentle, playful tug, before releasing her to slip from his knee.

Hesitating before she left, Dinah swayed on her feet, eyeing him with her beautiful brown eyes.

"What is it, raven?" He asked.

"Nevermore," she chirped with a shy grin, before hurrying out from the tent.

Huffing, he jabbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands until he saw stars.

Another long day stretched before him.

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Standing on the wall later with a coffee cup in hand, he gazed out over the Florida wilds below.

His grandfather's winding watch told him that it was nearly nine. At nine he would get down from the wall, as he did every morning, and wind his way through the tent city towards the main building where he'd wait until eleven in the office of the General.

A General he had never met personally.

Taking a sip of coffee, he narrowed his eyes.

Of course it sit well with him. This whole business of getting orders from ghosts, but he had a family to think of. He was almost afraid to stir the pot too much.

Turning away from the empty nothingness of the forest, he made his way down from the wall and headed through the tent city, weaving his way leisurely towards the main building, keeping his eyes out for the safety of his personnel.

As he pushed open the doors into the main building, the very first thing he saw was a pair of cold, angry looking blue eyes.

"Ah, Mrs. Vancoughnett," he greeted warmly. "Good morning."

"Do you have a moment, Colonel?" She inquired. The frost in her tone pushing him into a more cautious state.

"Ye-es."

She grabbed hold of him by the upper arm and led him roughly into a small corner of the building's shiny foyer.

"What the hell is going on here?" She demanded as soon as she had him good and cornered.

He clasped his clipboard to his chest and licked his bottom lip. "I'm sorry?"

"Th—my husband and I were taken into custody last night," she hissed. "For asking too many questions?!"

"You were taken into custody?" He inquired.

"By that creep Devlin, what is he? Military Intelligence?" She went on.

Opening his mouth, he found himself cut off as she went on.

"Where's the President? Why can't we speak with him?"

Sensing an encroaching darkness, he cleared his throat and went into self-preservation mode, thinking only of Dinah.

"Mrs. Vancoughnett, I'm afraid I can't help you. I wish you all the best in your endeavours, but—"

Carol backed down a little, eyes still hard, but face reading understanding. "I need answers," she whispered.

"I can't help you," he said. It was almost a plea. "I'm sorry." Reaching out with his free hand, he touched her shoulder lightly, before pulling away and hurrying off like the coward he was.

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"Colonel Kravitz," someone called out, pronouncing his name with the proper accent.

Standing by the General's door, he exhaled, before turning around.

Major Devlin approached with a grin.

"I love saying your name. Kravitz," he repeated in the same accent. "So full of phlegm."

"Major Devlin," he greeted. "How may I help you?"

Devlin smiled like the slimy eel he was, it was full and plastic like one of Dinah's Ken doll's. More fang than any man should have in his mouth.

"Come with me, Colonel, if you have a moment?"

"Not now, Major, I have an—"

"Appointment? With the General, right?" Devlin said. "Tell me, does he have a moustache these days? Peg leg? One eye? Beard? Or is he a she? Oh! The fun I have just imaging the old boy…girl? Come along, he'll still be there when we return."

Drumming his fingers on his clipboard, Kravitz gave in with a slight nod.

"Good man," Devlin said, leading them away from the door.

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They stood on the rooftop of the building, looking out over the tent city.

Devlin, smiling smugly, remarked, "you know, I could have you killed, if I wanted. But I was never afraid of dirtying my own hands."

Kravitz saw through the man's disarming technique and replied just as calmly, "I could shove you off this roof and no one would care."

The man beside him chuckled. "Come now, Kravitz, we're on the same side."

"Of course we are, we're both armed forces personnel."

"I think you're smarter than that, Kravitz."

"That's _Colonel_, Major," Kravitz returned icily. "Don't forget that I outrank you."

"Outranked, outclassed, but never outwitted." Devlin stated.

"I will push you from this rooftop myself, Devlin," he said firmly, offering the man a small, dry grin. "Get to your point."

"You're really beautiful when you get all authoritative," Devlin gushed.

Kravitz offered him a simple 'hmm' in response.

"Alright, cutting the bullshit," Devlin said, tucking his hands behind his back casually. "You and I both know that there's no President. I doubt there's even a General leading us."

"Oh?" Kravitz inquired.

"Picture it, there's no law, the dead are walking around chewing on people, roving gangs of murders and rapists and you're one small blonde woman. What do you do?"

Kravitz almost rolled his eyes at the suggestion.

Beside him, Devlin smiled proudly.

"I'm sorry for your parents," Kravitz said after a moment. "It couldn't have been easy raising a child with ground beef for a brain."

"They managed," Devlin returned.

"Okay, so little secretarial Ms. Hartwell is a mastermind, running us like an army for her own safety while she sits in an ivory tower giving orders? I think I read this one in a dime store novel," Kravitz said.

"Scoff if you will, Colonel, but unless we see a General. I'm talking gold stars, then I don't think such a thing exists. And you're not so dumb as to think there's really a General too, I know you have your suspicions." Devlin shuffled in a little closer to him. "And what do you think is going to happen when those soldiers down there find out that there's no one leading them? That's an awfully big vacuous hole to fill. I'm guessing after they're done toasting Ms. Hartwell over an open flame for her deception, they'll turn on the superior officers who followed her orders and gave the commands…"

Kravitz looked at him grimly, soaking it all in. Never had the thought occurred to him that he would be to blame for someone else's lies.

"I know what kinds of dirty deeds the Major-General has been performing for this woman, but what about you? What kinds of horrors have you been doing?"

He was quiet. There wasn't anything on him beyond running a smooth ship. But what had the Major-General been up to? This was news to him.

"I've been in the middle of a few societal and political coups," Devlin bragged. "But this one should be pretty bloody. I could only imagine the betrayal they'll all feel." He turned to face Kravitz fully. "If you're lucky, you'll get the Hussein treatment. A short drop and quick stop, if you're unlucky…I'd say Mussolini?"

"My men wouldn't," Kravitz said. "They know I have their best interests at heart."

"Man is but a monster restrained by a thin string tied to the big toe of a God," Devlin said. "Without a God, with enough force, they will be unleashed." Suddenly, the man stepped away with a sniff, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. "Well! Think it may get warmer tomorrow!"

As Devlin made to pass him by for the stairs, Kravitz caught him and whispered roughly, "I don't like being manipulated, Major."

The prematurely silver haired man grinned at him. "Why does everyone assume I'm manipulating them? I'm only concerned for you, Colonel."

"Bullshit," Kravitz hissed.

"Think what you will," Devlin said flippantly. "But just give it some thought. Let me know what your plans are, Colonel. We can work together."

Well, Kravitz wasn't sure about that. But the Major had given him a lot to think about and unfortunately the top of his concerns at that moment were his family. If something did happen, if the troops did revolt or start throwing blame, he most certainly would be in the line of fire.

He had to get his family out, just to be safe.

His thoughts turned to Carol and Lieutenant Vancoughnett and the children they were trying to get home to.

It was time he did something instead of withering away filling out order forms and taking personnel complaints about lack of supplies.

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Lieutenant Vancoughnett was still stuck in the small supply closet, when Colonel Kravitz stepped inside.

The other soldiers with him glanced up, but returned to work at the sight of him. No one really paid any heed to him usually. Kravitz didn't demand the full on salute like Gauthier did.

"Lieutenant," he greeted.

The tall, dark haired Cajun continued counting dry lima beans into ration packs. "Colonel?"

"Could I have a word?"

He had chosen to go to the Lieutenant instead of his wife out of a firm belief that she could very well be watched. It didn't go to say that Lieutenant Vancoughnett wouldn't be watched either, but two military men talking was probably a little more believable than a married woman and an army Colonel.

"Sergeant Bilko?!" Lieutenant Vancoughnett barked. "Mind if I step out with the Colonel?"

Brandt stuck his head up from his paperwork and frowned darkly. "Lieutenant—"

"Thank you, Captain Brandt," Kravitz said quickly. "I won't take but a minute with him."

"Brandt," Vancoughnett murmured loudly. "That's his name!"

Stepping out of the closet with Lieutenant Vancoughnett, Kravitz manoeuvered them far enough away that he could speak fairly freely. Guiding Lafayette into an empty room used for package storage.

It smelled of cardboard boxes and Styrofoam.

"Colonel, did you know Carol and I were—"

"I know everything, Lieutenant, listen," he cut him off swiftly. "I can get you and Carol out of here, but I need a favour from you and a bit of a promise."

Vancoughnett quirked a dark brow. "Alright, I guess."

"Tonight, I can distract the back gate guards, not for long and I can't give you an accurate window of time, but if you see me heading towards the South facing guard tower, you gather your wife and get out."

The Lieutenant narrowed his eyes a little suspiciously at him, but the Colonel went on explaining.

"We're sitting on a powder keg here, I don't think we have much time left as a cohesive unit."

"What are you saying, Colonel?" The other man asked.

"I don't know, but tonight keep your eyes on the main area of the city, I'll keep to the main area when I head to the tower. Then you sneak out with Carol."

"And? The promise you want me to keep?" The Lieutenant asked.

"My parents and daughter will meet you at the gate, take care of them."

Lafayette's eyebrows touched his hairline.

"Keep them safe. I know you'll be in Georgia somewhere. If I make it out, I'll find you."

As the other man opened his mouth, Kravitz cut him off swiftly. "I know it's a big favour to ask, but…I don't know what's going to happen here, but something has to give."

"Come with us, Colonel," the man offered.

Kravitz shook his head. "No, these are my troops. I can't leave them, whatever happens."

"Colonel—"

"Tonight, at light's out, about half past."

"Just what's going on here, Colonel?"

"I don't know," he replied earnestly. "But I'm going to find out. Just promise me you'll be there tonight and that you'll take care of my family."

It was a moment, before the man nodded. "I will, Colonel. You have my word."


	36. Cold, Cold Heart

**RandomMoonshadow -** I hope so too, I think this upcoming event may be the big one...

**itsi3 -** More mouths is the last thing anyone needs. I agree fully.

**delenadreamer16 -** I love when Carol gets mad.

**stargazr41 -** Well, considering that Kravitz sees coming up for the camp, I'm sure he'd rather take a risk with these people who want out then leaving them trapped within the walls when things go sour. But I see your point.

**Claire Randall Fraser -** I'm not going to lie, I may try Ms. Hartwell's tactic if there ever comes a ZA. It is pretty clever...if it's in fact true.

**Amberboo80 -** I hope things work out well for Kravitz too, I'm getting a little attached to him.

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**Chapter Thirty-Six: Cold, Cold Heart  
**

****Carol****

"What happens when you run low on supplies?"

They had been sitting in the supply tent for about two hours, Carol quietly stewing, but also keeping a close eye on the comings and goings.

Connolly for her part was filling out orders and taking orders while keeping Carol hidden from the CO's so that she could have the company.

"We get more," Connolly replied.

"From where?"

The soldier shrugged. "The Major-General usually brings back things from his travels."

Carol was quiet for another moment, not wanting to push the subject, but deciding she wanted to know everything she could about the crooked group they were trapped with.

She didn't hate all of them, but the mood she was in, she hated most of them. The senior officers mostly, the bastards who stood between her and her family back home.

"Where is the Major-General?" She asked. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"He headed out," she said. "They do that a lot."

Moving towards her, Connolly flopped down on the crate beside Carol and looked at her studiously for a moment, her beautiful almost topaz eyes alight with play. "You seem down today, girl." She said nudging her with her elbow. "What's wrong?"

Carol shook her head. She couldn't trust anyone. Not after Devlin pulled her and the Lieutenant in for questioning.

Connolly looked off, watching a few troops as they moved past the open tent flaps. "What's it like out there now?"

When Carol didn't say anything, Connolly went on.

"I haven't been outside these walls since it all went down. Is it bad?"

Carol nodded.

"My family's probably gone," Connolly continued gently. "I have no real hope for them surviving, but sometimes I pray. Are you religious, Carol?"

"Not so much anymore," she replied.

"I was born and raised in Meridian, Mississippi," Connolly announced almost proudly. "My parents raised me Baptist, we were always going down to the river to wash away our sins. Used to sit in the third row in the hot little church and the choir there used to sing a praise song, they'd sing 'I'm Not Tired Yet'." The woman shrugged. "Sometimes I wake up with that song in my head."

Carol licked her bottom lip. "My group has a nun, well she's a Mother Superior, actually and she used to think the rapture came and God raised all the pious, righteous souls to heaven. That those of us left here are the sinners. Sometimes I find myself thinking the same thing."

Connolly smiled wistfully. "Must be Catholic."

"Yes."

The conversation halted as Major Devlin ducked into the tent. He blinked for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the darkness from outside, before he beamed at Carol, all but ignoring Connolly.

"Mrs. Vancoughnett," he oozed his fork tongued charm.

Carol wanted nothing more than to rip that tongue from his mouth and shove it up his ass still wriggling.

"I've been looking all over for you," he went on, motioning with his head for her to accompany him.

She remained sitting beside Connolly. "No muscle with you this time?" She demanded.

He chuckled. "Not today. This little _tête–à–tête_ will be at my pleasure."

"It won't be at mine," she murmured bitterly, refusing to get up and cooperate with him.

Devlin's eyes flashed to Connolly, before his grin widened. "Come on, Mrs. Vancoughnett, I'd love to apologize for our misunderstanding."

"I'd love to do a few things to you over this misunderstanding," she returned coolly.

"Well now, then there, Mrs. Vancoughnett," he bounced jovially backwards a little. "Come with me and give me a few examples. I'm sure we'll both enjoy it."

Carol calmly crossed her legs and remained firmly sitting.

"Okay," Devlin replied. "I'll just return with some muscle."

She blinked at him calmly.

Ducking his head, Devlin waited for a moment expectantly, before nodding. "Alright," he said, before slinking out of the tent like the weasel he was.

Connolly was quiet, her eyes on the doorway, before she turned to Carol. "Was that nerd bothering you?"

Carol smiled. "No more than a gnat buzzing in my ear. What do you know of Devlin?"

"Nothing, I know of him and that's it. He seems like a snake."

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Back in her cubbyhole, she was expressing her milk quickly, every drop that she dumped into an old mop bucket was a heavy, dark reminder of every drop her baby wasn't going to be fed.

Tonight, she decided. Come hell or high water she'd get them out. To hell with Kravitz and Devlin, to hell with that Major-General bastard and all the other soldiers who stood in her way.

She'd need a weapon at least. A gun if she could find one, but she'd take a knife at this point. Something.

The door opened and the Lieutenant entered, closing it behind him before he took note of her activity.

"Oh, sorry, _ange_." He said, turning his back politely.

"That's fine," she said, finishing up.

"You're getting home tonight," he said.

Carol nodded. "I know."

"Oh, you spoke with Kravitz?"

"What?"

Tentatively peering over his shoulder to ensure he was safe to look, he turned around to smile at her. "Colonel Kravitz, he's going to distract the guards and you'll be slipping out then with his family."

"What?" She repeated. "Why?"

"Well, I can only assume it's because he thinks this place may be a little dangerous in a few days coming up here, so he wants them protected elsewhere—"

"No, why is he helping us? He said he couldn't."

The Lieutenant shrugged. "Change of heart?"

"No," Carol insisted. "I don't trust him."

"I think, _ange_, if he's willing to stick his family in our hands, he's probably giving us a fair deal of trust to begin with. I'd take the offer," the Lieutenant stated. "You might not get a better."

She was quiet, taking the bucket from the room and down the hall to the washroom there to dump it. When she returned, she had made her decision.

"No." She insisted. "I don't trust him or any of them."

The Lieutenant was still, before his brow darkened a little. "Carol," he began in a tone that was too serious for him. "You have a baby girl at home, whether you trust the Colonel or not, just go. I'll worry about whatever might trail you."

Something struck her as odd and she turned on him. "You're not coming with me, are you?"

The man shrugged. "No."

"But Grace—" she began in a mild fury.

He laughed. "I will be going home, darling. I'm just not going with you. Something's rotten here, I can feel it. I'm going to stay and help them sort things out here."

"You're not a goddamn super hero, Lieutenant." She said.

Again he shrugged. "I'm not the type to run either. You have to go, you have a baby girl now, I—"

"—have a son and two little girls and a wife?" She broke in coolly. "You can't always run to the rescue."

He grinned smugly, which infuriated her and she took a small step towards him, brow lowered.

"You will be coming with me," she insisted. "Whether I have to frog march your ass home."

Peering down at her, the Lieutenant said, "you're a little shrimpy to be making that kind of threat, _ange_."

She glowered up at him. "I'm not kidding."

"I know you're not," he returned, still grinning.

Carol poked his chest with her pointer finger, "you're coming with me!"

"Ooh-ye-yi! Girl, that tiny finger is like a blunt dagger," he exclaimed.

She poked him again and he backed up a little, holding an arm to his assaulted chest. "Ow, come on!"

Again and again she poked him, until she had him backed into the corner at the end of their bunk laughing and shielding himself.

"Okay, alright!" He shouted, catching her hand gently and stopping her. Something she noticed, he could have done at any time. "Fine, I'll be right behind you when we go."

"In front," she insisted with a small, triumphant grin as she backed away from him and turned to the small desk-like table to sit on it. A little lighthearted about going home, still worried about allowing it to be under the Colonel's plan.

Stepping out from the corner, Lafayette rubbed at his chest and frowned. "You can be a mean little kitten when you want."

"I want to get us both home safely," she insisted. "But are you sure we can trust the Colonel? What if his family doesn't show and he just said that to trick us?"

"Carol, you trusted him first, remember?"

She did. But Devlin reminded her that they couldn't really trust anyone.

"I just want to be cautious is all."

"I think of anyone here, Kravitz is our best bet. He wasn't in the service when this hit, you know?"

"Really?"

"The boys in the supply closet were telling me, he taught English in high school, only did one tour overseas, come home and took his papers and walked. Only Colonel I ever knew who gets his hands dirty with his men." The Lieutenant eased down beside her on the desk. "I think he's only here because he has nowhere else for his family to be safe."

"The curse of the family man," Carol murmured.

At her side, Lafayette chuckled. "So it seems."

"Shouldn't you be on duty?" She asked suddenly.

He chuckled again. "Yeah, but if we're leaving what does it matter?" He leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "I should confess something, _ange_."

"What?" She whispered back.

"I wasn't a very good marine."

She gave him a mildly amused look, before changing the subject. "We'll need some weapons."

"I gotta find my Marie," the Lieutenant murmured. "Never leave a man behind. I'll see what I can scrounge up before nightfall, you worry about supplies we'll need for the long road home. Food and water, whatever you can find."

Carol nodded. "I can get us everything, I think. Even your rifle." At the Lieutenant's raised eyebrows, she smiled. "I have connections."

"Alright, you're in charge. Just tell me where to be and how to get there."

"Just be your pretty little self," she teased.

He preened a little for her benefit.

"I'll be right back," she stated, heading for the door.

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"Colonel Kravitz!" She shouted.

Carol had searched everywhere for him, only to find him overseeing the unloading of a truck of supplies, head bent to his clipboard.

"Mrs. Vancoughnett," he returned calmly.

"Can I have word?" She asked as she drew closer to him.

He looked at her, then over at his shipment, before nodding curtly and leading her a little ways from the other men.

"What can I do for you?" He asked politely.

"I'm sorry if I seemed rude to you earlier, I just spoke with my husband." She said, eyes on the men who seemed a good distance away, but still too close for her liking.

"I understand," he replied, the double meaning in his small nod.

Taking his pen from him, she flipped the papers on his clipboard to the very back page and scratched out. _Our belongings we came in with?_

"I wanted to thank you for being so kind to us," she spoke as she scribbled the words.

He glanced at her message, before inhaling deeply. "It's my job, Mrs. Vancoughnett. I try to ensure the comfort of all our troops and their families."

_Connolly's tent in one hour._ He scratched back.

"If there's anything else I can assist you with, please let me know," he went on.

Carol nodded. "Thank you, Colonel."

She took his hand as she handed his pen back, sandwiching it between hers and looked him in the eye, not only to seem sincere, but to brush away any lingering suspicions she might have about him.

He smiled a crooked, boyish smile at her.

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"I miss just sitting under a damned tree," Connolly said with a heavy sigh. "Without worrying about getting chewed on."

Carol figured she'd wait that hour with Connolly, sitting once more with the woman as she whiled away her hours in the supply tent.

"At one time I wanted to actually study Botany, I had a fascination with growing things. I thought it'd be real nice to just grow plants and have a greenhouse. You know, like flowers and roses."

"That sounds nice," Carol said. "You might be able to do it someday. I'm sure there's going to be a need for plant study still."

Connolly laughed. "Oh, come on, Carol. Let's face it, a gun is far more important than a petunia these days."

A figure blocked out the sun that was shining through the open tent flap and Carol stood up, expecting it to be the Colonel.

Instead, a weary, tired looking Major-General stood there.

"Major-General!" Connolly exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "You're back!"

"Yes," the man simply replied.

"We weren't expecting you back so soon," Connolly went on as she moved to help him fill out a requisition form.

"I wasn't expecting to find you shirking your duty," he returned, eyeing Carol. His gaze wasn't hostile or studious, but his eyes almost twinkled with amusement.

She wondered if his return would throw a wrench into their gears.

"What's it like out there, Major-General?" Carol asked, hoping to gauge his mood.

"Cloudy with a chance of being torn apart by an undead horde," he shot back easily, handing his form back to Connolly after signing it. "How have you been, Mrs. Vancoughnett?" He inquired, moving to stand just before her.

She looked all the way up, over his chest to his face and realized in that moment just how small she was. "Things are going well," she said.

"Are they?" He inquired.

Why did every word out of his mouth ring suspicious? It was like he was in an old time spy movie where no one was to be trusted and everyone was a suspect.

"Yes," she replied.

Smiling only a little slyly, the Major-General, flashed a quick glance at Connolly, before casting his gaze back down at Carol. "You ladies have a good day," he said easily, before leaving the tent.

"That man is so hot," Connolly gushed a little. "I mean normally I'm not all about tall, dark and mysterious but…oh shit, I'm all about that."

Carol smiled a little and sat back down with Connolly.

"What did you do before all this?" Connolly asked as they returned to their previous topic.

"Housewife," she said.

"Nothing wrong with that, hardest unpaid work in the world today." Connolly laughed a little nervously. "Never wanted kids myself, ugh."

"That's okay too," Carol replied.

Another form filed the light coming through the tent flap and again Carol stood up, this time as the figure stepped inside, she was greeted with a petite, strawberry blonde.

"Joan!" Connolly exclaimed. "What's new, girl?"

"Requisition form from the General," the woman chirped, green eyes flashing in Carol's direction as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, sorry, Carol Vancoughnett, this is Joan Hartwell, Joan is next to God around here," Connolly said as she moved to file the order form.

"Well, as close as one can get these days," Joan replied with a gentle roll of her eyes. "You know the General, always super busy."

Carol smiled easily at the woman.


End file.
